


Some Minds

by magnuspr1m3



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: A+ Parenting, Adorable Bumblebee to the rescue, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Instability, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ratchet is dense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-02 22:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13327269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnuspr1m3/pseuds/magnuspr1m3
Summary: Sideswipe initially came to them alone. Not peacefully, of course; no, he took out half a patrol single-handedly before Ironhide held his cannon to his helm and demanded his cooperation. The bright red youngling had turned and spat at Ironhide, “Shoot me.” He had actually brought a hand up, gripped the side of the cannon and held it directly to his helm. “Shoot me! Do it!”Ironhide would not, and Ratchet was more than grateful for this later.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is currently 30,000 words, and not done. There is a lot more to come, as it ultimately leads up to Sideswipe's appearance in the Bay-verse movies. Be patient with me, though, as I am in my last semester of undergrad, so senior design may limit my posting schedule. All of this is unbeta'd as well, so just hit me up if you see a glaring grammar mistake that I glossed over in my own editing process.

Sideswipe initially came to them alone. Not peacefully, of course; no, he took out half a patrol single-handedly before Ironhide held his cannon to his helm and demanded his cooperation. The bright red youngling had turned and spat at Ironhide, “Shoot me.” He had actually brought a hand up, gripped the side of the cannon and held it directly to his helm. “Shoot me! Do it!”

Ironhide would not, and Ratchet was more than grateful for this later. Instead, the weapon’s specialist brought a fist up and knocked the youngling out with a quick strike to his helm and hauled him back to base. Prowl insisted on throwing him in the brig, especially after he took out half of a patrol of highly skilled warriors. The same mech that dragged him back to their base that was most against the idea.

“He wanted to die.” Ironhide said, voice oddly soft. It had startled all of the officers enough to snap all of their optics to him. Ironhide had always been a gruff mech, only showing this level of softness with his mate, Chromia. And she had been lost to them for many vorns by that time. “He wanted to die. S’why he attacked us, probably. Mechling needs to be watched, not left alone. Strap him to a berth in the medbay, if ya want him restrained, but if you throw him in the brig, and a youngling dies, yer gonna be the one I shoot through the helm, Prowl.” The stern look in those cobalt blue optics left no room for argument.

Which was how Ratchet found himself, several joors later, with a bright red youngling in his medbay glaring at him. He had introduced himself, explained where the mechling was, and asked for his designation. Not a peep, unless you counted the growl of the other’s engine. The medic rolled his optics, shrugging. “Suit yourself. I’ll bring you energon in a few joors.” He had dealt with difficult mechlings before. Leave the poor thing alone for a bit, and he would talk. They always did. He took two steps from the berth before their newcomer spoke. _That was quick_ , Ratchet thought to himself, forcing down a smirk.

“Don’t bother,” was the sharp response, and Ratchet raised an optic ridge. “Just kill me. Why are you keeping me alive? I don’t know anything. Just kill me! Just kill me!” Arms tugged at bindings desperately, looking to them in confusion at first and then…

An odd sort of relief. Like the bindings were familiar to the youngling. He looked at them like one might look at a favorite younglinghood blanket. He fell oddly silent, but his shouting still echoed in the medic’s spark, the absolutely desperate tone coming from the young mech. It was not taunting. That was honest to Primus begging for death. Ratchet wanted to know why, wanted to fix what caused such a young mech to cry and scream for death. He wanted to not see a youngling _happy_ to be restrained, like the restraints were home.

Ratchet hummed softly to get the youngling’s attention, fearing anything louder may have startled him from where he just watched how the bindings stretch when he tugged. Crimson optics shifted up to Ratchet again, noticeably less aggressive and anxious than before. “What’s your designation, kid?”

The youngling responded instantly this time, much to Ratchet’s surprise. Without the least bit of hesitation, he said, “I’m Sideswipe. My twin’s name is Sunstreaker, but I call him Sunny. They- they have him still.” It was a lot of information for Ratchet to process at first. He had a designation, and some very important sparkhealth information as well. _They_ implied that Sideswipe had been a captive before, as his twin still was then. He made quick note of everything in Sideswipe’s file while he changed the name, before turning back to him.

“Where is your brother, Sideswipe?” If they were actual twins, splitspark twins, then Sideswipe would likely be able to locate his twin easily enough. He had heard other splitsparks describe it as a sort of constant pull on your spark when away from one another. The strength of that pull depended on the strength of the bond between the twins. In some cases, stronger bonds drove the mechs crazy the further and longer apart they were. He would put a lot of money on Sideswipe and his brother being very close with how desperate he seemed at times.

Red shoulders shrugged, “Unless Shockwave has moved bases again, probably still back there. I could track him, if I wanted to, but he doesn’t want me to come back. He says, ‘stay with the medic, they’ll just kill you here’, which is dumb, because if they kill me, they kill him, and Shockwave already went through all the trouble of _trying_ to merge us, so I mean.“ Sideswipe cut himself off with another shrug, bright red optics falling down to his lap. As Ratchet worked through all of this new information, his fingers played at the bindings some. A little frown graced the younglings features, followed by a wince. “They’re doing it again.” He whispered.

That caught Ratchet’s attention. “Doing what?” What could Sideswipe be talking about? Was his twin telling him what was going on, what they were putting him through? Better yet, was ‘if they kill me, they kill him’ why Sideswipe had tried to get himself killed? To free his twin, albeit through death?

“Torturing him,” His voice trembled, frame doing the same. He looked pained, as if he were feeling residual bits of the torment through their bond. Not completely unheard of, but not common – even with splitsparks – either. “They want him to find me, but he won’t. Stupid.”

Ratchet shook his helm, scowling at the youngling. “That’s not stupid. He is your twin, and obviously cares for you a lot. Would you help them find him, if your places were switched?”

Sideswipe’s face contorted in rage at the question, shaking his own helm quickly in denial. “Of course not! But he won’t let me come back. If I try to, he shuts me out. Not completely, but enough that I have trouble finding him.”

“Do you want to go back?”

The questions startled Sideswipe, who actually jumped a bit. Did he? For Sunstreaker, yes. But he did not want to be back there. Not anymore. He wanted to experience something other than Shockwave’s craziness in his life, even if it wound up being short because of the war going on all around them. He wanted to feel something other than fear or rage. He wanted to be _happy_. For Sunny, though, he would give up whatever happiness he could have had.

“No, but-“ He began, ready to explain this to the medic. Ratchet did not understand what it felt like, to be as closely connected to another mech as he and Sunny were. But, confessing that truth would let the medic know what abominations Shockwave had been trying to make them into. Something twisted and very _not_ them.

Ratchet stopped him, holding a hand up. “No buts. If you don’t want to go back, you don’t have to. Optimus will send a squad to rescue your brother.”

Sideswipe’s optics went comically wide at that, shuttering a few times in surprise. “T-the _Prime_?” His surprise was amusing, but Ratchet had to wonder how he had not put together exactly where he was. Ironhide, the mech who brought him in, was the Autobots’ weapons specialist, and had been captain of the previous Prime’s guard for vorns; he was a well-known mech. How long had Shockwave had a hold of them, that they did not know who the main officers of the Autobots were?

“I mean, I am the chief medical officer of the Autobots. I have a little bit of pull, kid.” He kept his tone light and teasing, watching Sideswipe for some sort of reaction. The kid was very responsive, and funny. He was just so _alive_. Ratchet sent up a few prayers to Primus, to thank him for bringing this lively little thing to his medbay, and made a note to remind himself to get Ironhide some high grade later, when Sideswipe just continued to gape at him. The medic snorted and tapped his chin up with a single digit. “Shut your mouth kid, unless you wanna catch turboflies.”

Sides just continued to stare in wonder, mouth now shut. Ratchet stared right back, hands on his hips struts and a smirk on his face. He could wait, especially now that the kid was finally cooperating some. He did not wait long before the youngling whispered, “B-but he always said you guys were evil. That the Prime was the worst of all the Autobots.”

He could not keep himself from snorting again, “So you went looking for one of our patrols?”

“I wanted to die.” A little shrug had Ratchet’s spark plummeting at that reminder. He knew very well that while Sideswipe was calm now, the longer he was away from his twin, the worse it would be. Sideswipe could very well mean those words soon, as madness settled in. They needed to act fast.

If not for needing Sideswipe to locate his twin, Ratchet would have had the bright red youngling strapped to a berth. How the mechling could move, let alone have made it all the way to Iacon from Shockwave’s hideout, without having his twin by his side after what they had gone through… Ratchet was amazed. Not only was there severe damage to his spark, but he was also constantly feeling his twin’s pain at whatever Shockwave was doing. And Ratchet had read Jazz’s recon reports on some of Shockwave’s experiments.

Those poor mechlings.

Sideswipe had said that they were meant to be the perfect killing machines; _Shockwave_ had been their carrier, but they did not know who their sire was. A skilled fighter, they knew that much. Those who watched or trained them said they were just as ruthless as he was. Those who faced them in the Rings quaked in fear, knowing just whose progeny they were facing. And they never lost. Their caretakers and Shockwave praised them each time for their ability to kill so easily. Not necessarily what a youngling should be told, but the twins started to thrive on it. That was better than the beatings or the torment their own carrier put them through if they hesitated.

It got worse when they hit thirty vorns old. They both startled awake one night to a sharp pain in their sparks, sending them both into high alert. _Shockwave_. Their bond to him had been broken. They thought he had died, and at such a young age, had immediately gotten up and rushed to find him. To make sure their carrier was all right; even if he never treated them particularly well, he was all they really knew. They charged through his base to find him, even with the nearly debilitating pain in their sparks from the severed carrier bond. Any mech or drone that tried to stop them was taken out, nothing standing between them and Shockwave.

“You’re early,” He had said when they found him prepping two berths in his lab. They were for surgery, if all of the tools laid out were anything to go by.

They shrank together, so close that were their paint wet, it would have mixed into a vibrant orange. Dread, anger, and sadness swarmed through and around them, overloading their processors as well as their sparks for a moment. Shockwave had severed their bond himself? He had to have, if he were just in his lab casually preparing for some sort of experiment. And they feared why he would have done such a thing, even if he did seem to hate them most of the time.

Turned out Shockwave was worried about how splicing their two sparks together would go properly if they had any other bonds at the time of surgery. He wanted to make them into a gestalt, which was no easy feat. Definitely not something done with splitsparks before.

“He failed, for the most part,” Sideswipe had whispered softly, Ratchet and the other officers gathered around him. The red mechling had not allowed anyone to get closer than several paces away aside from Ratchet, who practically hovered over the youngling. He would insist it was because the mech was obviously in bad shape. His friends knew better, but would not mention it at the time. They were all too enraptured with the horrifying tale of Sideswipe’s escape, and why he had tried to get himself killed.

“Sunny… it was hardest on him. Something- I dunno, something went wrong, something shorted out…” Sides shrugged, looking so lost. “He’s always angry now. Always. I feel it, always there… Just below the surface, y’know? He tries to block it out, but we can’t really. I feel _everything_ , just like he does. Emotions, pain… _everything._

“We were both supposed to get out, or die trying. That was the plan, but Sunny got caught. They’re hurting him.” They barely heard him whisper it, except Ratchet, who was so close to the mech, looking ready to reach out and hold him close. If not for the monitors, he might have. “I-If I die, Sunny does, too. And then they’ll stop hurting him to try and get me back. B-but Shockwave wants us both, so he won’t kill Sunny. He put too much time into us. S-s-so I-I have to _kill_ myself, but I can’t! I can’t I just-“

Sides choked some, frame trembling and Ratchet had given in then. He wrapped an arm around the youngling’s shoulders, squeezing gently and wrapping the other’s field in his own to try and soothe him some. “I don’t want to die.” Sides managed, and if Ratchet squeezed a little too hard then, he said nothing.

Optimus had called in the Wreckers and Ultra Magnus to storm Shockwave’s base and get Sunstreaker out. That had completely thrown everyone except Jazz for a loop, the saboteur just smirking at his oldest friend instead. It had sent the red mechling into tears, and Ratchet had nearly throttled the Prime until he realized that they were not actually sad tears. Sideswipe had insisted on joining them, much to Ratchet’s chagrin, citing the fact that he was the only one that could actually track them and knew the layout of Shockwave’s base like the back of his hand since he had grown up there. He knew better than to keep twins apart. He just resigned himself to staying on Sideswipe's aft the entire time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended to wait a bit before posting this chapter, but honestly did not expect the response I got to this story. So, since y'all are so great, here is chapter 2 of... a lot lol

Keeping on top of Sideswipe proved to be more difficult than Ratchet initially expected. The youngling was quick and nimble, weaving in and out of battle as if it were nothing. Ratchet had _never_ been quick or nimble; his frame was not meant for speed or grace. He kept shouting after the youngling to slow down, or not go too far ahead. For some odd reason, he listened. It was not safe for Sideswipe to slip off on his own, even if he was a capable fighter. If Shockwave really wanted them both back, the last thing they needed to do was let the youngling go off alone to get his twin. That was just a disaster waiting to happen.

Jazz caught on to Ratchet’s desperate struggle to keep an optic on the youngling, and wormed his way through the battle to get closer to them. “I got the kid, Ratch.” He assured the medic, nodding to where Sideswipe was practically vibrate behind cover. Jazz knew that look, had seen it in some of the more battle hungry mechs amongst them. That kid was itching to fight, battle protocols running at maximum capacity. Keeping him out of battle, although optimal given his age, was not going to do them any good if he eventually snapped. “I’ll watch him. You just stick as close as you can.” Ratchet looked extremely uncomfortable with the idea of just letting the young mech at it, but Jazz gave him a quick pat before he could say anything and turned to Sideswipe.

“Lead the way, kiddo!”  That got him a brief surprised flicker of red optics, before Sideswipe was off. The youngling was definitely fast, but Jazz kept up with ease, fighting with and around the kid with surprising ease.

Sideswipe fought just like they had in the Rings, from what Jazz had seen when casing the Rings back before the war. He suppressed a frown at what sort of life that had to have been, not only being _Shockwave’s_ offspring, but also having to grow up in the Rings on top of that torment. Yet, the kid seemed relatively cheery and easy going when they had all been headed to the compound. In fact, Ratchet had struggled to get the youngling to shut up for a few moments. How could such a happy youngling come from such terrible beginnings?

Probably the same way an archivist became Prime and a senator became a slagging good medic.

“He’s close!” Sideswipe had called to Jazz, barely a klik before just breaking away from the ‘Cons and Bots and sprinting away. The saboteur groaned loudly, downing the larger mech he was currently struggling against with a simple slice of his blade to some delicate cabling and a quick plasma blast in his abdomen. Maybe keeping up with Sides would not be as easy as he expected if the mechling pulled any more stunts like that.

Jazz rushed after him, sliding around a corner and nearly hitting a wall in his attempts to catch up. “Sides, ya killin’ me here, younglin’!” He called after him, catching a speck of red in the distance. Sideswipe just rushing ahead, not stopping to realize that there were no mechs guarding this corridor like the rest.

It was a trap.

Jazz was yelling over comms for help as soon as possible, anyone, charging after Sideswipe with renewed purpose. He had no time to listen to response or talk much, just bursting out his location and drawing his plasma pistol. He would have preferred going in with stealth, but there was no time to pull up one of his profiles to sneak in. There were younglings’ lives at stake. He just hoped beyond hope that Prowl would have no reason to scold him after all of this.

_No time for distracting thoughts, Jazz._ He scolded himself, pushing himself to move quicker to get to Sideswipe’s side. Ratchet would have his skidplate if the little berserker got hurt. Plasma pistol charged and ready, he slipped into the only room on the hall. He practically ran over Sideswipe, who stood there quivering just in the entrance. Just beyond the way stood Shockwave, field emitting smugness for all those around to feel as he held a bright yellow youngling by one arm, dangling him high off the ground. That had to be Sideswipe’s twin, given their strikingly similar appearances.

“What are you doing here, you dumbaft?!” That threw Jazz for a loop. The yellow youngling just yelled at his twin, flailing somewhat against Shockwave a bit. He sounded legitimately angry at Sideswipe, who just stood there shaking. “I told you to stay away! Why would you come back? _Do you want to die?_ ”

Jazz barely heard the soft no that came out of Sideswipe, deciding that enough was enough. He whipped his pistol up, firing a quick two shots directly at Shockwave’s shoulder joint. The crazy mech howled in pain, dropping the youngling. Before Jazz could even think to yell for the twins to run, the yellow one was rushing forward and leaping at him. He tumbled backwards, back colliding loudly with the ground just outside the doorway with a small youngling holding a blade to his throat and snarling. He was like a feral mech, similar to some of the tribes he had encounter ages ago.

A flash of red and suddenly the twins were tumbling across the hall, the yellow one snarling and Sideswipe trying to subdue him. There was no time for any of that, though, not with Shockwave _right there_. Jazz snatched a twin in each hand and ran for the sounds of fighting further down the hall. The yellow one struggled, but much weaker than initially. After another quick glance, Jazz could spot why. The poor mechling looked malnourished, and was bleeding energon from several places. “Gotta get you to Ratchet, li’l buddy.” Jazz said, holding the twins close to his torso as he ducked a shot from behind. “And away from ol’ one-optic, too. Primus, that mech’s obsessive.”

“Thank you,” Sideswipe whispered, pressing close. Jazz could still feel an occasional shiver from the red mechling, which was concerning. He would have to let Ratchet know about that, so the mech could get Smokescreen to talk to Sides. He would hate for the little mech to wind up having any serious processor problems later in life, but knew it was bound to happen anyway. The sooner they taught both of them healthy coping mechanisms, the better. Jazz just gave him a quick grin and a nod before returning to trying to locate the medic.

Thankfully, Ratchet found him. Jazz nearly shot the mech when suddenly someone was just taking the twins from him. A quick whack to his helm had him blinking in confusion before just nodding to the medic and moving back to the fight. Ratchet had the twins now. Jazz was sure no harm could come to them with Ratchet hovering over them constantly now.

“You must be Sideswipe’s twin. Pleasure to meet you.” Ratchet said to the yellow twin after giving Sides a quick once over. He had no serious injuries that couldn’t be treated back at base. “Sunstreaker, right?” He was a completely different story. The poor thing needed an energon drip, and was likely in a lot of pain with one arm out of the socket. He could not do much for that, nor did he want to in the middle of a battlefield. He could patch him up, though.

Sunstreaker nearly sliced his hand off with a blade when he reached towards him again, snarling loudly. “Don’t touch me!” His tone of voice gave him away, though. He was _scared_ , and Ratchet could honestly not blame him. Here was this strange mech, amongst a bunch of other strange mechs, taking him from the only place he had known as home in the middle of a firefight, all while he was injured. Ratchet would probably lash out to. Sideswipe was at his twin’s side in a moment, wrapping him tightly in his arms and successfully pinning the blade to Sunstreaker’s side in the process. _Clever mechling,_ Ratchet thought with a proud grin.

Ratchet held both of his hands up, one empty and the other holding his patch materials. “I just want to patch those wounds up, kid. I won’t hurt you, I promise. You can ask your brother. I’m completely harmless.”

Sunstreaker continued to eye Ratchet. Sideswipe eventually let him go, likely having discussed what was going on with the other through their bond. The mechling took a cautious step towards him again. “You hit that other mech on his helm, though.”

Ratchet’s sudden laughter startled both mechlings, clinging together in an instant. “He deserved it. I won’t hurt either of you, though. Ever. I promise.” And it was startling to realize just how much Ratchet meant that. He would rather face down Unicron by himself than hurt either of the two trembling youngling before him. He was in far too deep already, just like every time before. He could hear his sparkmate laughing at him now, scolding him for picking up more strays. He would of course remind the other that he had once also been one of Ratchet’s strays.

Seemed the yellow one of his newest two was finally warming up to him, at least enough to come towards him and let him start patching him up. He was extremely careful around his arm, not wanting to hurt the mechling any more than necessary; he would set that later when the other was in a nice, drug-induced sleep. Sunstreaker stood perfectly still the entire time, while Sideswipe continued to quiver at his side. It was curious, watching the two. Sideswipe had joked that they were opposites, but Ratchet had never thought that it was quite like this. Still, he doubted the were as different as Sideswipe thought.

“All done! Well, sorta. As done as I can get you here.” Ratchet said, giving Sunstreaker a quick pat on the helm. The mechling actually glared up at him because of it, which Ratchet would definitely be getting the image of framed later. It was definitely more adorable than the youngling intended it to be.

And the next second, the twins were rushing off together. Not very far, thankfully. However, Ratchet would really have preferred they not go _back_ out into the fighting. Of course, why would they listen as he yelled after them? He was only looking after them, after all. Only trying to keep them alive. What did he know?

He knew shortly after that that the twins fought around each other with deadly grace. They should have barely been walking, let alone taking on mechs three times their size, yet they did so ruthlessly. Both were dripping with energon, although Ratchet felt sure it was not their own, not after he had just patched them up. If one took a hit, the other was instantly there to defend them. Not that they got hit often. Their small size was definitely an advantage, as well as how quick they were. Watching them fight was still anxiety inducing for the medic, though. Even if they were obviously capable, Ratchet still very much wanted to snatch them up and run. He wanted them as far away from there as possible, especially with how much damage Sunstreaker had taken from his time alone with Shockwave. If they were not already too big to go into his spark vault, he definitely would have forced them both into it and just gotten as far from this place as possible. The others could take the base out. He had two younglings to worry about.

Two very, very deadly younglings, but younglings all the same.

“Sideswipe! Sunstreaker! Stick close to me!” He shouted, catching the yellow mechling’s attention first. He turned and practically sneered at Ratchet, opening his mouth to say something before slamming it shut to whip around and glare at his twin. Sides ran up and snagged Sunstreaker by his good arm, pulling him back towards Ratchet. Ratchet heard Sunny snap at his twin, obviously displeased but Sides did not seem to care.

Ratchet sent a quick comm to Prime before gently picking them both up and ignoring Sunny’s snarling. “We are done here. I’m taking you back to the ship so we can head back to base.”

That stopped Sunny’s snarling really quickly. “The _Autobot base_?”

Ratchet should have expected that with how Sideswipe had reacted before to learning who he was. He smirked at the mechlings as he made it to their ship, walking back on and setting them all in back on the ships makeshift medbay. “Well, one of them, anyway. Welcome to the Autobots, Sunstreaker.”

.   .   .

Prowl had been waiting for them when they returned, two brightly colored sparklings twittering eagerly in his arms. They had wings, much to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker’s surprise. They had not thought there were any fliers amongst the Autobots. And, being so close in size… they had to be twins as well. They had never seen other twins, let alone other sparklings or younglings. The closest they had ever come were Soundwave’s cassettes. Most sparklings did not live to younglinghood with the Decepticons, let alone to their first vorn. They just gaped at the two tiny fliers, watching as the silver mech – Jazz – moved forward and snatched them up, cooing at them as they chirped happily back at him.

… Was that how creators were supposed to act with their children? The twins shared a look, part of them each mourning the affection they were never shown. Neither could imagine it, though; Shockwave was far from a gentle mech. Was it sad, that they could not even imagine their carrier cradling them close like Jazz did those flier twins? Probably, but they were not allowed to dwell on it much longer before Ratchet was talking to them, snapping their attention back to the medic. Two sets of red optics just stared up at him as he spoke softly, something about medbays and fuel and berths and-

Sunstreaker collapsed first, Sideswipe instinctively catching him without a second thought. Ratchet seemed startled by that, but Sideswipe was not. He could feel his twin’s exhaustion, matching his own. Sunny just needed some rest, and a lot of repairs. As Sides sat down with his twin in his lap, swaying some himself, and Ratchet appeared to already be scanning them both and rattling stuff off to other mechs, he realized that they would both be all right. Casting his gaze to Ratchet, who was most definitely saying something his overly tired processor refused to listen to, he saw genuine concern there. Something that had never once been intended for the twins before their daring escape.

Ratchet would keep them safe. They would be okay. Sideswipe lay down slowly, letting that thought ease him into recharge as Ratchet huffed above him, rolling his optics. They would be okay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the kudos and comments so far! I'll try to update again sometime in the next two weeks.

“Hey, Ratch,” Jazz called, rushing up to Ratchet after the medic and First Aid had each picked up a twin to carry back to the medbay. Ratchet looked over his shoulder, initially frowning but immediately smiling instead when he spotted Jetfire and Jetstorm still in Jazz’s hold. (Jazz was totally not using his own sparklings as protection from the wrench-crazed medic, not at all.)

With a tiny wave at the two happily chirping sparklings, Ratchet turned his attention back to Jazz. “Thank you for keeping an eye on Sideswipe and his brother earlier. I fear I may not have been quick enough to get them both to safety.” His tone was rather somber, and Jazz knew all too well what was likely going through Ratchet’s processor; he thought he was not good enough. Damn mech and self-esteem issues.

“I dunno, mech, you’re pr’scrappy when ya need to be.” Jazz reminded him, shifting the twins in his hold some as he thought about how best to mention what he needed to without possibly worrying the medic more. He barely knew these new younglings, but was already hovering about them as if they were his own. He had barely let Sunstreaker and Sideswipe get more than an arm’s length away from him, and he had been even more selective with who could get close to the younglings. Optimus had walked up to ask how they both were and Ratchet’s engine had actually growled. It was actually hilarious. “Just wanted to give you a quick bit o’ info. Saw something ya might wanna talk to Smokey about.”

That got the medic’s attention, field suddenly snapping tightly to his frame. “What?” His voice was tight, and Jazz could tell he knew what he wanted to talk about: Shockwave.

Jazz braced himself for Ratchet possibly getting angry or defensive, nodding to Sideswipe. “When we ran into Shockwave, he froze. Completely. He just stood there an’ shook.” It still broke Jazz’s spark to think about how Sideswipe had so easily torn through mechs much larger than him, only to start acting like an actual youngling at the sight of one mech. A mech that was supposed to be his carrier, at no less. Jazz wanted to murder the mech, and held his own sparklings a little closer. “Sunstreaker was just yelling and flailing about.  Sides wouldn’t move or say a word. Ya should get him talkin’ to Smokey. Probably Sunshine over there, too, whenever he is recovered.”

He was pleasantly surprised to not be on the receiving end of Ratchet's rage at the implication that there was something he medically could not handle. Instead, he got a resigned sigh from the medic. “I anticipated needing to do so, unfortunately. Poor mechlings.” He muttered, nodding to Jazz. “I plan to let Sideswipe and Sunstreaker adjust to being on base with us first, however. This is already a lot of change for the both of them. Don't need Smokescreen poking around in their helms on top of that.”

Jazz shifted the twins so he held them both in one arm and held a hand up in defense, “Hey, whatever ya wanna do mech. I was just lettin' ya know what I saw.” He pressed the two small frames closer to his chest, get two happy whirs in response that had the grumpy old medic smiling softly. Ratchet always had a soft spot for sparklings.

“Thank you again, Jazz.” Ratchet said, voice soft as he started to move once more towards the medbay. “Go spend some time with your family. I’m sure those little ones want to here all about your latest ‘adventure’.” There was a teasing lilt to the mech’s voice as he nodded one last good bye. He had two mechlings of his own – in a metaphorical sense, at least – to take care of. At least until they were in shape enough to be placed with a proper caretaker. Then they would be off Primus knows where, likely causing trouble for some other poor mech instead.

Part of Ratchet hoped they did not heal quickly.

.   .   .

It was interesting, watching Sideswipe take so easily to Bumblebee after getting his repairs done. The red mech had not had the same bit of hesitation he had when seeing Jetfire and Jetstorm, although Ratchet suspected that his post-battle exhaustion had been a large factor in that. Bumblebee, though? The little mechling had simply pointed at him and demanded “who”, and it appeared Sideswipe was a goner. He just snatched the sparkling from Optimus and chattered away a mile a minute with him. And Bee just nodded or chirped back happily at him as Sideswipe just… _talked._ It was the most Ratchet had ever heard the youngling say at once, which was saying a lot since Sideswipe would gladly chatter Ratchet’s helm off.

Optimus actually allowed Sideswipe to watch Bumblebee, which had startled all of his close friends in the command staff. Optimus had avoided battles for decaorns even after Ratchet had cleared him, just because he had trouble being away from his precious, tiny sparkling. Yet, the red mechling seemed to win over both Bumblebee and Optimus Prime enough to be allowed babysitting duty. Ratchet suspected part of it may have been because the youngling had plastered himself to Ratchet’s side since being allowed out of a berth. Even when Sideswipe was watching Bee, he stayed in the medbay or the quarters he had decided he was now sharing with Ratchet. Occasionally, he made his way to the rec room, but still found all the other bots pushing and shoving at times to be a tad overwhelming. So, the two were hardly ever truly unsupervised.

Having Bumblebee around also helped distract his charge from his brother, which proved to be a difficult task otherwise. Ratchet had resigned himself to simply setting up another medberth as a sleeping place for sideswipe across from his Sunstreaker’s to keep the red youngling from climbing into the berth with his brother at night. Getting Sides to leave the medbay without Bumblebee was next to impossible. Ratchet had even taken to using Bee needing a wash as a reason to get Sides to _finally_ wash himself off.

Even with all the quirks, Ratchet could not deny that the youngling was gradually worming his way into Ratchet’s spark. Ratchet watched with what he had accepted was a certain level of fondness as Sideswipe sat on the floor with Bee, telling the little mechling _war stories_ , of all things. The medic’s spark ached, knowing that a youngling of not even forty vorns should not have war stories to share. Definitely none of his own, with scars to match. He wanted desperately to lock Sideswipe away, as well as his twin whenever he came out of stasis.

He watched as Sideswipe pointed to a scar along his arm, starting to open his mouth in his excitement as he went through the scars. Suddenly, that bright, lively expression Sides almost always wore fell away and he slumped some. His optics dimmed a tad, and the little sparkling chirped at him curiously. He shook his head, whispering, “It’s… uh, it’s nothing, Bee.”

Ratchet had moved to kneel beside them, startling the youngling as he spoke and place a gentle hand on his shoulder strut. “Sides… what happened?” He could guess, from how Sideswipe suddenly went so uncharacteristically quiet. It was either self-inflicted or from his twin, and Ratchet was not sure which was more upsetting.

Crimson optics flickered up to him, swimming with uncertainty. Skinny red arms wrapped around Bee, holding the sparkling tighter to him. Sides shook his helm, resting it atop Bee’s and whispering a soft “no”. Bee whirred unhappily, patting Sideswipe’s light armor. Bee nestled his helm in the crook of Sides’ neck, wrapping tiny arms around it in a hug. Ratchet rubbed soft circles into the plating along Sides’ back, waiting for him to uncurl some. He would not press, not when the mechling currently only really trusted him out of all the Autobots around them. He would not squander that trust.

“We had to get out. It- it wasn’t Sunny’s fault. He didn’t know.” The red twin sounded desperate to convince not only Ratchet, but also himself. “I-it was the thing! The th-thing that _he_ made. Sunny would never hurt me!”

And it made sense then to Ratchet. It all clicked into place. Battle protocols were not installed until a mechling was nearly a hundred vorns old generally, although they had been doing it as early as seventy vorns in recent times. Any sooner than fifty, though, and there were often serious side effects to the youngling's psyche. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were not even forty vorns old yet, and obviously had them installed with how they fought their way out of Shockwave's compound and Sideswipe's many war stories from the Rings. Primus only knew when they had been installed. If the battle protocols had split off, developed a personality and mind of their own… Well, Ratchet would need to keep an optic on them both. Battle profiles were dangerous, and often nearly impossible to delete.

Ratchet continued to rub between the other's shoulders, humming softly. A note was added to each of the twins' medical files about this new development, something Ratchet honestly should have suspected sooner but had not. Ratchet watched as Bumblebee mimicked him, patting Sides’ shoulder. It took many kliks, but eventually Sideswipe started to loosen up. Ratchet slipped Bumblebee away from Sides’, earning protests from both of them. He hushed them both with a gentle, “shush”, moving to shut the lights off in the medbay. “I feel like you two could use a nap. Sound like a good idea, Bee?” He was unsurprised to get a little nod and a yawn from Bee, who was rubbing a fist at one of his optics. Ratchet looked to where Sides had been sitting, only to find he had already moved to the berth he had claimed and was halfway to recharge already.

Without another word, Ratchet laid Bee down with Sideswipe, pulling a soft blanket over the two and making sure the temperature was set properly for them, as all three of the mechlings in his medbay were still too young to properly control their own body temperatures in recharge. They were both recharging peacefully in an instant, and with one last check to make sure Sunstreaker was still alright as well, Ratchet headed into his office to get some work done in quiet for the first time since Sideswipe had made an appearance.

He found he did not like the silence anymore. Perhaps Wheeljack would come sit with him while the mechlings all napped. That would certainly solve the silence problem. He probably would not get much work done, though. Oh well.

.   .   .

Wheeljack absolutely adored Sideswipe. Ratchet had to force the scientist out of the medbay at night so the youngling would actually go to sleep. The two had hit it off immediately, which was turning out to be unfortunate for Ratchet as he did not think he could deal with the spark attack that was both his sparkmate and the youngling he was looking after showing up covered in burn marks from explosions more than once. The one time was not _completely_ horrendous, if only because Sideswipe showed up with Wheeljack cackling like a crazy mech while the scientist actually looked somewhat ashamed for blowing something up again. Ratchet would let it slide that one time, though. Just because it lightened up the young mech’s mood so much.

Turned out that Sideswipe actually had a knack for mechanics, and Wheeljack was pretty sure that he could get the little mech to pick any other scientific focus up pretty easily. As much as both of the older mechs hated to consider it, it did look like the young mech took after Shockwave when it came to his intelligence. Neither of them dared to say that aloud around Sideswipe; if anyone so much as started to allude to Shockwave around Sideswipe, the poor mech completely shut down. Ratchet could not blame him, especially with the bits and pieces he had been able to get out of the youngling about his life with Shockwave. He was honestly amazed that the youngling was as well-adjusted as he seemed to be. Older mechs had cracked spending only a few orns in Shockwave’s grasp, let alone their entire lives.

Part of that was what made Wheeljack want to adopt the mechling and his brother. They were obviously survivors, and any younglings Ratchet or Wheeljack were ever going to raise would have to be. Especially since they would be raised on base. Kindling was also a very difficult process, and neither of them particularly wanted to. In Wheeljack’s processor, it all made sense. “It’s meant to be, Ratch!” Wheeljack had proclaimed, seeming so sure. He had a faceplate splitting grin and Ratchet could feel the excitement rolling off of Wheeljack’s field in waves as they lay in berth together that night.

That made what Ratchet felt he had to say even worse. “No, ‘Jack.”

His sparkmate’s normally open, playful field was suddenly pulled so tightly to the other’s armor that Ratchet was only aware of the hurt and confusion in it because he rested a hand on the other’s side. “No? Why not? It’s obvious Sides like us both.” And Wheeljack was not wrong.

Ratchet could not keep those two younglings any closer to the war, though. They had been created for _war_. He would not keep them near fighting, would not risk them joining it. They deserved a proper younglinghood, one that they could not give them. The twins would be safer sent off to a neutral colony, where they could actually be younglings. Ratchet explained this all to Wheeljack, voice soft because he needed to be sure it was not because he thought Wheeljack would not be a good creator. Anyone who saw how Wheeljack was with any of the younglings or sparklings on the base knew that the mech would make a great creator one day. This was about two younglings that had not been allowed to act like younglings having the chance to finally do just that. “No matter how much you and I both want to give them a happy life, the one they deserve, you _know_ that we can’t.” Ratchet whispered sadly.

“No, we don’t know that. We can’t know that unless we try, slag it!” Wheeljack insisted, moving away from Ratchet as he sat up. The medic reached a hand towards the other’s, watching the white mech lightly swat his hand away. He frowned some, not used to ‘Jack ever brushing him off. It was usually the other way around. That hurt, honestly, but Ratchet said nothing and just pulled his hand back. “They like _us_ , Ratch. What is so wrong with _trying_? Sure, maybe they can try living a normal life in a Neutral colony, but what if that colony gets attacked? What if they _die_ because of it? They are safest here, with us and the Autobots. And, honestly, I think they’ll be happier here, too. You’re just too worried to let anyone else in. It’s too late, though.”

Ratchet lay there stunned by the outburst as Wheeljack got out of the berth and rushed away, likely to the lab. Where had all of that possibly come from? And since when was Ratchet “too worried to let anyone else in”? He had let Wheeljack in, obviously, and all of the other commanding officers. Most of the mechs around base he would call friends. It had nothing to do with any sort of insecurities ‘Jack thought Ratchet had. Those two younglings deserved much better than they could ever give them in the middle of a war. They were both officers, and as such, would often be required to work horrendous hours and go to all sorts of meetings and occasionally into battle. Younglings deserved someone to be around for them, to be there to make sure they ate properly and went to recharge at proper times. Ratchet and Wheeljack could not guarantee that.

No matter how much he wanted to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay. Graduating college and starting a job was more chaotic than expected lol here is this chapter. It was originally longer, but I prefer how it flowed without the last bit, so I'll post that as another chapter either later today or sometime tomorrow.

“Can you change the color of my optics?” Sideswipe’s whisper nearly startled Ratchet enough for him to weld his finger to the plate beneath his hand. He cast a concerned look over his shoulder, taking in the mechling. Sideswipe was sat at the smaller desk behind his, turned around on his stool. Ratchet had put that in recently for Sideswipe to work on schoolwork where he could keep an optic on him. Sideswipe was avoiding optic contact, hands wringing together in his lap.

The timidness in his normally confident charge was more than concerning. He set his torch aside, levelling Sideswipe with a curious look. “Why would you want me to do that? Did someone say something? You don't need to. I’ll handle any mechs giving you a hard time.”

Ratchet caught the barest quiver of Sides’ chin before suddenly he burst into tears, throwing the medic for a loop. He had never seen Sideswipe this distraught, although he had not really known the youngling for that long – a decaorn was nothing for beings that lived millennia occasionally. That made it no less concerning, though; not even when he had talked about his brother injuring him had Sideswipe been quite as upset. He reached out, gently pulling Sideswipe towards him and holding him tightly. Something had to be _wrong_. He just could not guess what.

It took several kliks of sobbing before Sideswipe was able to get an answer out. Ratchet had to ask him to repeat, keeping his tone soft to try and ease the poor sparklings nerves. “I-I don’t wanna look like _him_.”

_Ah_. Shockwave. The scientist with the large, crimson optic. The exact same color that Sideswipe and his brother had, passed down from their psychotic carrier.  The same mech that Ratchet had yet to get Sideswipe to talk to anyone about. He had not thought to, wanting to wait until Sunstreaker awoke from his system repairs and after the two adjusted more. The other should be up any orn now; he had thought it could wait.

He realized with a sigh that he had been wrong. He grabbed Sideswipe gently by his shoulders, holding the youngling back some so he could look him in the optics. “If you are sure you want me to, I can. It is a pretty easy mod.” Which was the truth, and he would gladly do the procedure for the youngling if he never had to see him cry like this ever again. “But I want you to be absolutely certain this is what you want. While I can change it back, it is best to not do too many modifications on a young mech. It could cause you to be short.” A light flick of the other’s chin at that got Sides giggling softly, a tiny grin forming on his faceplate. A similar one pulled at Ratchet’s own faceplate, an odd warmth settling in his spark. “There’s the Sides’ I know.”

The youngling stuck his glossa out jokingly, swatting at Ratchet's hands. “I’m not gonna be short. Apparently our s-sire was _huge_ , so Sunny and I are definitely gonna be tall.” Ratchet took note of how Sides has just barely stumbled over the word sire, and how he did not even bring up Shockwave's size. The subject was definitely going to be a problem one day, likely for Sunstreaker as well.

For now, though, he had to discuss programming a safe mod for Sideswipe (and Sunstreaker, just in case) with Wheeljack, who had spent the last few orns with Perceptor, avoiding him. He was hoping beyond hope that it did not result in another fight over the twins. Ratchet had made up his mind on the matter, and while none of his friends would give him any sort of advice on the situation, he felt his decision was right. The twins would be safe with a neutral colony somewhere away from the war. They had seen too much of it already. Ratchet would not force them to inevitably see more.

.   .   .

“I look like you now,” Sideswipe chirped immediately upon seeing his reflection, turning to beam up at Ratchet with happy, bright blue optics. The medic could not suppress his own happy little grin at that, lightly pushing at the mechling. They did not look alike, aside from the optic color. Sideswipe’s red was much more vibrant than the bits of red in Ratchet’s own paint. Ratchet also had a much bulkier frame than either of the two newest mechlings who were bound to grow taller than him soon enough.

They took after their carrier, as much as Sideswipe seemed to want to deny that. Ratchet saw it every time Sideswipe powered through his science and math lessons like nothing, but could not bring himself to do his history work. He saw the fear of that, too, any time Ratchet, Wheeljack, or any of the others tried to nurture that love for science. Sideswipe would immediately retreat into himself, refusing to do anything other than play with Bee or watch a holovid. Then he would turn around and pull off an elaborate prank, building all sorts of contraptions or mixing various compounds to make explosives.

It hurt to see Sideswipe use such a gift for mere pranks and destruction. But he would not push the mechling into anything he did not want to do. He would let him live his life happily, as any youngling should. Sunstreaker as well, whenever he woke up. His system was moving much slower than it should have, which was extremely worrying to Ratchet. It was likely either a product of malnourishment, or the damage done to both of the twins’ sparks. Perhaps even both. Which still upset the younger twin greatly.

So, if letting the youngling think he looked like the medic made it easier for him for a short while, who was he to deny the other that. He nodded. “Yeah, you kinda do. Although, your red is a lot nicer than mine.”

Sideswipe giggled some, shrugging. “Sunny complains if I don’t stay nice and shiny, so I always make sure to wax.”

That was peculiar, and something Ratchet definitely needed to make note of. OCD tendencies were uncommon in mechlings their age, and those that did surface were generally very extremely later in life. “Why does Sunny complain?” Ratchet probed, wanting to be somewhat sure of anything before he added anything to Sunny’s chart.

Sides just shrugged, still admiring his new appearance. “He's always complained. It makes him extremely…” He paused briefly, looking like he is searching for the right word.

“Anxious?” Ratchet offered. “Like there is a bug in his programming or something. Or like he needs to… keep moving. Manic?” The description had to be simple enough for Sideswipe to be able to relate to them, so Ratchet knew he was not recording the wrong thing. The youngling continued to consider these both for a minute, before nodding quickly. “Which one?”

“Manic.” Sides answered quickly, nodding once more. “Like if he doesn't fix it immediately he'll die. He likes to be _pretty_.” There was a teasing lilt to Sides tone, a wicked little grin on his faceplate as he continued to inspect himself in the mirror. “I dunno why.”

“It just bothers him.” Ratchet supplied, making more notes he would inevitably have to pass on to Smokescreen one orn. Not then, though. He had a happy youngling by his side, and a sparkling asleep in the other room. They would need to check on Bee soon, as he would inevitably wake up and get into trouble. He took too much after his carrier sometimes. It drove Ratchet crazy.

Sideswipe suddenly snapped to attention, looking around quickly. Ratchet opened his mouth, ready to talk the youngling out if a panic before Sides' face split back into a grin. “Sunny!”

.   .   .

The little yellow sparkling was a startling surprise for Sunstreaker to spot when he finally onlined. If not for his arms being strapped down, he might have accidentally squashed the little thing. Instead, he simply blinked up at where it sat over his spark, bright blue optics practically beaming with joy. Little antennae flickered atop his helm as he chirped and whistled at Sunstreaker, tiny doorwings thrown back wide in excitement. The yellow twin was honestly at a loss for words, just staring at the happy creature and wondering how the frag he had wound up with the small thing after being reunited with Sideswipe. At least it was as cute as it was, or he might have been annoyed on top of confused.

_‘Sides?’_ He pushed out with his spark, searching for the other and noting that he was actually close by. He felt his twin’s flare of surprise, followed quickly by joy and a small amount of panic. He picked up hurried footsteps off to the side, turning his head in time with the sparkling to spot his brother and what appeared to be the medic from before. He took note of the comfortable way Sideswipe stood by the medic, and immediately began to question what these mech’s had done to his younger brother. They _hated_ medics. What was going on?

“Sunny! Did Bee wake you?” Sideswipe snatched the little sparkling up, eliciting a bright peel of laughter from the tiny thing as Sideswipe…

Tossed him up and then held him close?

Sunstreaker blinked several times, just staring at his brother as the medic moved to the spark monitors nearby. Sideswipe’s optics were wrong. They were _blue._ They had red optics, like their carrier. If not for the bond between their sparks, he might have thought that the mech before him was an imposter. He still thought it possible. Sideswipe was reckless, and not even close to gentle when it came to _anything_ , yet there he stood, cradling that bright yellow sparkling close and cooing down at it. And his optics were red, not blue. This was _wrong_.

His voice came out a tad rough, “Who are you, and what did you do with my half-wit twin?”

“If I’m a half-wit, so are you,” The red mechling sang back, still focused on the sparkling. “We're half of the same spark.”

At least this imposter responded like his brother would.

The medic approached his berth, pulling a nearby stool up and sitting on it beside him and undoing his restraints for him to sit up. He did not. “Good to see you awake again, Sunstreaker. How are you feeling? Probably a bit stiff, I imagine. Anything sore, though?” He was being asked all of this while the mech ran some scans, a familiar red light washing over him. Was the mech asking him this to see if he would lie, to punish him? Sunny knew those scans would tell the medic if anything was still wrong with him. What was he supposed to say? He did not want to be beaten anymore. He did not-

‘ _Ratchet won't hurt you,_ ' Sides assured him suddenly over the bond, sending waves of reassurance his way and reaching out to mesh their fields together. ‘ _Ratchet is not like carrier was, or Hook even. Ratchet won't hurt us just for being alive. There is no wrong answer. Just tell him if anything hurts._ ’ His twin nodded at him from the side where he still held the sparkling – Bee. If Sideswipe trusted the medic this much already, perhaps Sunny could as well.

He shrugged some, gesturing with a hand to his right shoulder. “It feels off. Like it isn’t completely in the socket, or something else is caught in there. And my right knee. I can’t feel it. They did something, and I guess you just didn’t notice it or whatever.”

Instead of hitting him and scolding him, much like he expected and was braced for, the medic just nodded and appeared to make note of this. “I’ll do some more in-depth scans for you in a bit. You okay to sit up completely for me now?” No commands, no harsh tones. Just easy, gentle vibes coming off the medic’s field in waves.

And excitement. That one perplexed Sunstreaker the most. Was this medic really excited for him to be alright? Genuinely excited, and not just eager to have someone to experiment on like Shockwave always had been? He found that he had a really hard time telling the difference between his twin’s excitement and that of the medic and the little yellow sparkling. They felt the same in many ways, and that confused Sunny. He found he did not know what to do, and simply lay there staring at the medic for far too long. He was waiting to wake back up in cell, where he belonged. No one was ever excited to see the twins outside of the pits.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sunny asked bluntly, earning a snort from the medic and a squawk from his twin. “Seriously. You’re excited to see me, and it doesn’t seem… bad.” He shuttered his optics a few times, even quickly rebooted his HUD. There were no errors. He was not imagining this all, amazingly. His fingers itched to draw his dagger, but did not. There was a sparkling near. He would not risk harming a sparkling.

Ratchet motioned for Sunny to sit up, frowning when Sunny still did not. “It’s fine, mechling. I’m not gonna hurt you. Your brother can vouch for that much.” His tone was easy but troubled; Sides would not have noticed those undertones, not like Sunny. He never paid enough attention. The medic was _worried_ , though Sunny did not know whether it was for his sake or their own. “Now, sit up. Let me check out your shoulder strut, okay? I promise, I’ll be as gentle as possible.”

“Ratchet only hurts you when you’re being stupid!” Sides chirped from the side, getting a glare from the medic. “He hit Ironhide with a wrench the other orn. It was really funny.”

Sunny’s optics snapped to Ratchet as he slowly sat up, one optic ridge arched. Was Ironhide not the Weapons Specialist? What sort of mechs were the Autobots? Or rather, what sort of mech was Ratchet? He had heard all sorts of stories of the mech, who was large and absolutely deadly in combat. He remembered Shockwave coming back from a battle severely injured because of the mech when they were only a few vorns old. And this medic had _hit_ him?

A soft huff left Ratchet as he lightly began to exam Sunny’s shoulder strut. “Sides, stop trying to make me look cool. You’re having the exact opposite effect.” His brother had said a quick apology before climbing onto the berth with Sunny, Bee still in his hold. Sunny’s spark immediately lurched, frame tensing as Sideswipe drew closer and their fields mingled more. Ratchet took note of the way Sunny side-eyed him, holding back his laughter. Instead, he let the sadness also caused by it settle in his spark for a moment. What had these two been through to cause Sunstreaker to react so badly to his twin sitting next to him during an examination? What had Hook and Shockwave done to these poor mechlings?

“Part of your armor back here is bent. A line got snagged on it.” Ratchet’s voice was slow and his tone even as he gently unhooked the line and watched the yellow twin’s posture slump a little in relief. “I can look at your knee later. Seems like Sideswipe is about to burst if I don’t let you two just talk.” He actually chuckled some at the embarrassed look he got from the other, but waved it off. “I’ll be in my office. _Stay out of trouble_.” He leveled Sides with a firm look, knowing very well how much trouble the youngling could get into on his own. He feared what he could do with his twin. “I’ll be back in a bit with some energon for the three of you, okay? Be careful with Bee, Sides.”

And he left them at that, the red mech already launching into a rant about this and that with Bee jumping in occasionally. Sunstreaker did not say a word throughout any of it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little later than I anticipated, but mostly because I was trying to get it to mesh with the next chapter. It wouldn't, so here it is. This thing is an emotional roller coaster for the next few chapters, so... yeah, just gonna warn you guys about that now.

Prowl and Optimus wanted someone to run a processor check on Sunny; one had been done on Sideswipe, so it only made sense. Ratchet had no problem with doing a check. His problem with it was _who_ they wanted to do it. They were sending Jazz to do it. Jazz only did scans on threats, such as prisoners. Sunny was _not_ a prisoner. He would not allow it. Absolutely not.

He would just do one first.

“Ratch, are you sure about this?” Wheeljack asked softly, standing off to the side a bit. Ratchet had called him in, just in case he actually needed to be pulled out. He doubted it, but his sparkmate had insisted. “Jazz wouldn’t hurt him. Y’know that. And Optimus has got a point. He was used as bait. Primus only knows what they did to him.”

Ratchet shook his head, “I-I know that Jazz won’t hurt hm. But Sunny doesn’t. He trusts me, ‘Jack. I have to do it.” Not only to protect Sunny, but to protect the others. Sunny was still a bit of a loose cannon. If he were to become startled and lash out, the mechling would not be able to live with himself. Ratchet had seen how much Sunny beat himself up over the scars Sideswipe had because of him. He could not let the youngling collect any more reasons to be guilty. “He won’t hurt me. Right?”

Sunny nodded quickly, eyeing Wheeljack still. This was his first time meeting the scientist, so he was still very wary around the other. He had not completely shut the mech out, though, so Wheeljack was counting it as a win. The medic had told him it could be worse.

Ratchet moved towards the youngling, holding a hand out. “I won’t hurt you, either. I promise.” He reached out with his field, letting it brush gently against Sunny’s. “Will you let me check your processor? I’ll need you to scoot forward a bit for me to jack in.” He guided Sunny forward, not saying anything as the mechling continued to eye Wheeljack. He would get used to him eventually. Jack would make sure of it.

Right as Ratchet jacked into the port on the back of Sunny’s helm, the youngling tensed up. The medic worried some at that, but pressed on. He thought nothing of it, knowing full well that Sunny likely had no good memories of this procedure. He moved slowly, probing at his first few walls. None of them were particularly difficult for him to get through, although he imagined it may have been much worse if Sunstreaker was actually fighting him. He wanted to ask about the number of firewalls after the fifth one, because most mechlings had no more than three. The second he began to work on the sixth one, however, he felt Sunny tense up.

Wheeljack yanked Ratchet out quickly, the medic losing his footing and sending them both crashing to the ground. All he could hear was screaming. It was not him, or Jack… had someone come in? Did they hurt Sunstreaker? What was going on? He struggled to clear his head; his HUD kept overloading his processor with warning after warning. Something was wrong.

“-ome on, Ratch. Please.” Wheeljack was speaking. Someone was still screaming in the background. Were they under attack? “Slag it. I’ve gotta get Jazz. Sides, go get Jazz!”

“B-but Sunny-“ Sides had been in the other room when they started. Ratchet remembered that. He had been with Bee. And the screaming definitely was not him or Bee. Was Sunny hurt? Had Ratchet hurt Sunny? He had promised he would not.

“ _Go_!” Wheeljack sounded terrified. Ratchet needed to clear all these damn warnings so he could actually think properly and talk some sense into the other. He needed to make sure Sunstreaker was alright as well. He would not stop screaming.

It took all of his will power, but Ratchet finally got moving. He was sitting up, doing his best to ignore Wheeljack’s crying and Sunstreaker’s screaming as he got his vision cleared enough to see around him. He had a horrid processor ache, and his entire body felt stiff and heavier than usual. He needed to move, though. “Sunny,” Ratchet managed to get out. Wheeljack was clinging to him, rambling about something Ratchet could not be bothered to try to understand at the moment. “Sun-“

A smaller form was leaping over Ratchet in an instant, quickly grabbing a hold of Sunny where Ratchet could just barely see him curled up on the berth. A silver hand reached out to touch Sunstreaker, not yielding even when the mechling lashed out. “J-jazz. Stop.” Ratchet forced out, but the saboteur ignored both him and Sunstreaker. Ratchet watched worriedly as Jazz hooked up to Sunstreaker, fearing the worst. “Stop!”

The room went quiet, or mostly so. The only audible noises were his own systems working harder than they should have been and pathetic mewls now coming from Sunstreaker. Jazz was still holding Sunstreaker, having unhooked from the youngling and now instead trying to hush his crying. “I gotcha, Sunshine. I gotcha.”

Ratchet almost cried tears of joy when Sunny could be heard whispering, “Don’t call me Sunshine.” He was okay. Thank Primus.

Jazz snorted, “Whatever ya say, younglin’.”

They were quiet for a long moment, Ratchet still trying to gather himself as Wheeljack continued to cling tightly to him. He was aware of Sideswipe coming back without Bee, who likely had been snatched up by Optimus at the slightest thought of danger befalling his precious sparkling. Neither twin spoke, which Ratchet found was not uncommon for them. When talking to each other, the only clue that they were was how they still gestured as if they were speaking. He watched as Sideswipe crept closer, eyeing both Ratchet and then Jazz. The silver mech patted the space on the berth next to him and Sideswipe was climbing up in an instant. “First Aid is on his way.” Jazz said softly. “He’ll look over Sunny, and then take care of Ratchet.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Sides asked softly, cuddling close to Sunny as he looked cautiously over to Ratchet and Wheeljack. Ratchet was ready to say nothing, but Jazz of course spoke first.

“It’s just a little virus. Something I am sure that Shockwave planted for us to find. They’ll both be fine once First Aid gets here.” Jazz assured, and Ratchet tried to rise to protest. His body was working against him. More and more errors were clouding his vision. As much as he hated to admit it, Jazz was right. There was a virus attempting to reach havoc on his system. Thankfully, his system’s firewalls were extremely advanced, as was required of any medic. The virus, no matter how aggressive, would take decacycles to shut him down.

He should have noticed the virus before it could latch onto him, and was sure he would have if it were planted by anyone other than Shockwave. If he had been focused on anything other than making sure he did not startle Sunstreaker. It hit him out of nowhere, the realization that he cared so much about these two random mechlings that he was ditching protocol and nearly got them both killed. He was emotionally compromised, as much as he had refused to see it at first. He could have gotten Sunstreaker killed by that virus, and Sideswipe as well in the process. He would not have been able to live with himself if that had happened.

A hand against his cheekplate had his attention focusing in on Wheeljack. The mech had a soft look on his face, although Ratchet could still sense the panic beneath the surface. ‘ _You couldn’t hide that you had feelings forever, Ratch._ ’ The other’s tone was affectionate, but did nothing to quell the fear in Ratchet’s spark.  He could have gotten them killed. He was reckless. The twins needed to be as far away from him as possible. It was for their own safety.

‘ _And if they want to stay?_ ’ Wheeljack asked.

‘ _They won’t. Not after this._ ’


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyy, this one didn't take forever for me to get around to uploading it. It will likely be another week before I upload the next couple chapters, though. I start work this week, and have so much training it is not even funny. Yay engineering. >.>

The younglings wanted to stay with Ratchet. Even after everything that had happened, and at Ratchet’s own insistence that they could find them a nice family in a neutral colony, they still said they wanted to stay with Ratchet. The medic really should not have been surprised – no one else was. Wheeljack was excited, and had gone about adding another room onto their quarters. That made what Ratchet felt he had to do while watching his sparkmate get ready for them to move in even worse. So he just came out with it. He was worried about Sunny being able to handle Wheeljack's energy. The mechling could barely handle his own twin!

Wheeljack stared at him, stock still for several moments. Ratchet worried the other had glitched until he finally shuttered his optics before asking, “Are you serious?”

“Just for a few orns, alright? Decacycle at most.” Ratchet promised, taking a quick few steps into Wheeljack’s personal space to grab his servos in his. “For them to both settle. They came from a really rough place, and I want them to be able to settle in completely before we try to… push _us_ on them, okay? Especially Sunny. That mechling needs _time_.”

Wheeljack snorted, “He needs _love_ , Ratch, and guidance. You and I both know the last thing that mechling needs is isolation.” There was an edge to his voice, like a building rage. He could feel it across their bond. Wheeljack was already attached, and he had barely spoken to Sunny. The sparkling struggle to even sit next to Wheeljack in the medbay, but he had yet to turn the scientist away, so Wheeljack thought it was a success. Ratchet thought it was more of a warning.

“I'm not isolating them!” His exasperation was evident. _This_ was why he wanted them to have a few orns to settle in. Wheeljack was such an emotional mech at times. He worried about how Sunny would handle being around it constantly. He did not want either of them to get hurt again. “I'm protecting them!”

_Frag_. Wheeljack flinched back from that, fins going completely dim as the mech somehow shrunk in on himself. With the barest little flicker of his fins, he asked, “From me, right? Worried I'll blow them up?”

Ratchet let out a groan, “You know that’s not it!”

“It sure feels like!” And the fire was back in Wheeljack’s voice. He was stepping in to Ratchet’s space, field full of anger and hurt. “Name one good reason why I _shouldn’t_ be here, and then I’ll tell you at least 5 reasons why I should.”

He did not want to say it, the biggest reason. The main reason why he was sure Sunstreaker was still uneasy around the mech. It seemed he had no other choice, though. “Because of Shockwave. Sides may not seem to draw a connection between your occupation and his, but Sunny obviously does. And I don’t want him to accidentally lash out at you, or for you to get hurt by him ignoring you. He just… he needs time.” Ratchet wanted Sunstreaker to get used to one change at a time. Moving into their quarters and getting used to the base would already be difficult for the mechling. Adding in Wheeljack and all of his messes and craziness all the time was another thing entirely. He just did not want Sunny to see one part of Wheeljack’s work and hate him for it. It would devastate Ratchet to have to choose between the twins and Wheeljack. He did not think he could make that choice. This was just something temporary so he would not have to.

Wheeljack just shook his helm and stomped off to their room. Silence was never a good response from Jack, as Ratchet had learned. He stayed in the main room, waiting until Wheeljack finally came out. His field was held tightly to his frame. That was the most troubling part. He reached out for the other as he came closer, but he just kept walking. “You have a single decacycle, Ratchet. That’s it. I-I’ll be staying with Percy.”

And with that, Wheeljack left. It hurt, but Ratchet reminded himself that it was only for a decacycle.  Wheeljack would be back in their quarters soon enough, and his sparkmate could have his little dream family. Everything would be alright.

.   .   .

The younglings clung tightly to his sides as they walked into his – _their_ – quarters. Both of them looked around with wide optics, taking everything in. He could feel the excitement in Sideswipe’s field, and was pleasantly surprised to feel that in Sunny’s as well. He guided them through the main room to the add-on. Wheeljack had helped in fill in with toys and other things the youngling might like, insisting when Ratchet had mentioned intending to do so. There was a delightfully Wheeljack touch to some of the gifts, especially the brightly colored paints and datapads loaded full of books.

They entered the room slowly, taking in everything around them. Sideswipe went about touching everything, excitement coming off of him in waves. Sunny hung back near the entrance. There was a hunt of concern under his own excitement. Ratchet touched his shoulder lightly to get his attention, urging him to look. When the youngling still did not move, Ratchet asked instead, “Is something wrong, Sunstreaker?”

“There’re two berths.” Sunny mumbled, gesturing to them both. Sideswipe had already clambered up onto one, looking through one of the many datapads.

“We’ve never had our own berths,” Sides tacked on, grinning over at Ratchet. “Except in the medbay. But those don’t count as real berths.”

Sunny did not seem to be as enthused as Sides was. He eyed the bed opposite the one Sides was on warily before finally moving and joining his twin on the other. Sides said nothing against it, instead chattering at his twin and showing him the datapad. So Sunny was unsure about sleeping alone. He had not seemed to struggle too much with it in the medbay. But he had noted that the twins would often hold hands across them, and would sit beside each other on one berth during the orn.

Ratchet moved over to the other berth, sitting on it and looking across to the twins. “Would you two prefer it if I pushed them together?” That got him a shy shrug and a definite nod. He gave them both a small smile. “That’s fine for now. You two are going to need to sleep in your own separate berths eventually, though. Okay?” With the help of the twins, they rearranged the room how the twins wanted it. Once it had both the Sides and Sunny seal of approval, Ratchet left them to their room. Just as he shut the door, he heard Sunny grumbling at Sides to make sure he did not knock over his paints.

Wheeljack was standing in the main room when Ratchet exited the room, startling the medic some. The scientist held his hands up before speaking. “I’m not here to stay. I just… I wanted to see if maybe the twins would want to eat together and play a few board games that I snagged from Jazz.” He said this all quickly, with his field pressed tightly to his frame and their bond shut so nothing leaked out. Jack looked like he had not recharged in a few orns, though. It had been rough for Ratchet recently as well, so he could not blame him.

With a soft sigh, Ratchet nodded. “Alright. That’s fine. But, if something seems off, we’ll have to call it for the orn, Jack. I don’t want them to hate you.”

“Hate who?” Sides chirped, poking his head out of the door from behind Ratchet. It startled both mechs, who looked to him quickly. He spotted Wheeljack, waving happily at the other mech. “Hi, Jack! Sunny and I spilled paint all over the floor!” Both mechs could distinctly make out Sunstreaker yelling from the room that he did _not_ spill anything and had to fight the urge to laugh.

Ratchet turned a soft smile to Wheeljack, reaching his field out to the other’s. “Want to help me wash the twin terrors before eating?”

The grin he got in return was absolutely blinding. “Of course.”

.   .   .

“Are the optics so mechs can tell us apart? Cause they already could. We’re different colors.” Sunstreaker grumbled, nudging his twin over on the berth as he slipped under the covers. It had been a very exciting day, with getting their own room and then Wheeljack coming over. On top of the last few orns spent in the medbay because of that virus, he had not had a chance to really ask his twin about the mod. “Or is it so you fit in more?” He could not fathom changing something he felt was so integral to what he was – what _they_ were. They were not Autobots, not by birth. Their carrier was the chief scientist for the Decepticons, and their sire was supposedly some sort of amazing frontliner. They had killed, as well. They were _not_ Autobots. They could pretend to be all they wanted, but Sunstreaker knew there would always be that small part in the depths of their sparks and processors that knew otherwise, that craved the chaos and fighting that came with war and the rings.

Sides huffed some, rolling onto his side so his back was to Sunstreaker. The other took that as an invitation to just press closer. “It is because I want to distance myself from _him_. I-I don’t want to be _evil_ , Sunny. We’re not evil.”

The yellow twin rolled his optics at that, allowing Sideswipe to entertain the idea that they were not made from evil, formed by it. That maybe, just maybe, they could be good. Sunstreaker knew better, though, could feel the truth of it all deep in his spark. They were not _evil_ , per se; they were the physical embodiment of chaos. They were intended to destroy. That was all they had ever done. They were the Twin Terrors for a reason, a name they had earned a thousand times over in the rings. It was not some endearing term, not how Ratchet used it now. They got it because they killed, and they did so with no remorse. They never hesitated. Until Shockwave pitted them against each other, that is. The ultimate test, he had called it. Could they kill each other? Seemed like a waste, given all the trouble Shockwave went through to get their sparks linked together like they were, but it had happened. And for several moments, Sunstreaker had not hesitated. He had gone at Sideswipe like he would any other opponent, and the idiot had just let him. Sideswipe had simply let Sunny beat away at him, as if he knew his twin would snap out of it eventually.

That was how Sunstreaker knew there was something wrong with them, that they did not belong here. The only thing that stopped him from tearing off his twin’s helm was the pain it had sent through his spark as well. Not because he recognized his brother. Not because he loved him, which he knew he did. Because it hurt, and that was what had pulled him from his rage. The pain. Not his brother crying for him, begging him to come back to him. He _hurt_ , so he had stopped. No normal mech could do that, could beat their twin – their other half – to a pulp like he had.

It was then that he had snatched Sides up and made a break for it. The two fought like they would not live to see another day when trying to get out of the damn Rings and away from Shockwave. Pit, they almost did not. It had taken every bit of his strength to will his brother to keep running when Skywarp had snagged him. To scream across their bond to get away, to get to freedom, before slamming it closed as best he could to keep out the pain he knew would come.

He scratched at his shoulder some, the socket still not quite sitting right. He would need to tell Ratchet eventually, but part of him did not want to. This was his penance for nearly taking bright, happy Sideswipe from the world, for almost keeping his twin and the medic apart. “I think that is just who we are,” Sunstreaker said softly after a moment, only able to remember that deep, burning rage while he beat his little brother into the floor of the arena. “We’re _Shockwave’s_ , whether the old Hatchet wants to admit it or not. Maybe it is just in our CNA.”

Sides scowled, nudging Sunstreaker roughly and almost knocking him off the berth. “You can’t mean that. Not after all the Pit he put us through.”

“It’s the truth!” Sunny snapped, temper flaring suddenly. “It’s who we are! We aren’t Autobots. We’re… I dunno, but we aren’t Autobots.”

Sideswipe huffed, getting up from the berth suddenly and hurrying across the room. “Maybe you aren’t, but that doesn’t mean I’m not either. I’m my _own mech_ , Sunny.” And he was gone, leaving the yellow mechling alone to just stare at the doorway where that bright red frame had once been.

They needed to get away from here. It was changing Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker did not like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this whole thing is gonna be one wild ride for the twins. Get used to Sunny being on the fence about all this for a bit.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the next few chapters are gonna jump about a little bit, just because I am trying to get to some really good bits. Also, we have hit 100 pages in word of this bitch, so yeah. And we still aren't done. I've got a lot more editing to do on the next couple chapters before I am happy with them, but so long as work doesn't get in the way, I should have that up in about two weeks.

A light knocking on his door had Ratchet sitting up from his berth, frowning some. He had thought the twins were asleep, but apparently not. He sent the command for the door to open, and in came Sideswipe. His little faceplate was drenched in tears, and his field was full of distress. Without a word, Ratchet reached out and pulled him onto the berth. Sides quickly buried his face into Ratchet’s chestplate, frame trembling some. Ratchet’s engine purred softly, trying to ease the youngling’s crying. “What happened, Sides?” At the little shake of a helm he got in return, Ratchet sighed. Sides did not get this upset over nothing.

Ratchet settled back down on his berth, youngling curled up on his chestplate. He simply kept rubbing gentle circles in-between Sideswipe’s shoulder struts. It had yet to fail him when comforting the youngling. Sometimes it just took a bit more time. Ratchet had plenty of time. His shift would not start for several more joors. Sideswipe would be talking by then, or asleep.

“Sunny is wrong.” _And there he was._ He sounded so unsure of what he said, though. Which left Ratchet with a lot of questions, but one needed answering first.

“What did Sunny say?” Ratchet feared the worst; that Sunny _wanted_ to go back to the ‘Cons. He had thought they were adjusting well, and that Sunny liked spending time with him. He could not help but fear that was all an act, though; a profile created from vorns of having to do as you are told or be subject to more of Shockwave’s experiments.

Sides found a way to press tighter against Ratchet, muttering out, “He says we’re evil. That we’re not Autobots.”

That was only the tiniest bit better than what Ratchet had anticipated. He was not saying he wanted to go back to the ‘Cons. What he was saying was barely better, though. It made anger it caused in Ratchet was the same. Because he had watched the twins for many decacycles now, and knew there was not a drop of evil in their small frames. They were barely out of sparklinghood. They did not truly understand what it meant to be evil, even having lived with it up until now. How could Sunny say such a thing?

“He’s wrong.” Ratchet assured Sideswipe, stamping his anger down for now. “You know that. He is just scared. This is all new to the both of you. He probably is having trouble adjusting.” Ratchet hoped he was, anyway. He did not think he would know what to do if that were not the case.

“… what if he’s not?” Sides asked softly, startling the medic. Bright blue optics peered up at him, looking so lost and unsure. Those were not the optics of a Decepticon, even when they had been crimson. Sideswipe was not evil. Neither was Sunstreaker.

Ratchet settled Sideswipe onto the berth beside him, startling the youngling some until Ratchet pulled the blanket up over them both. “He is wrong. I know it. I saw nothing evil in your processor. I would know, right?” Sides seemed to mull that information over, before finally nodding to Ratchet. “Exactly. Let’s just recharge now. You’ll feel better after some rest.” He assured, waiting until he heard Sides’ systems cycle down before doing so himself.

Sunny was waiting at the table early the next orn, a cube of energon in his small hand that he did not seem interested in eating. He perked up some when Sides exited Ratchet’s room with him, grinning at his twin. He had not yet picked up on the tension in Ratchet’s shoulder struts. The medic’s field was pulled tightly to his frame. He got a cube for Sideswipe, who took a seat next to his brother, and grabbed one for himself. He sat down across from the younglings, sipping at his energon lazily.

He was waiting. Sunny could tell. It put him on edge. He had done something wrong. What had he done wrong?

After finishing his cube, Ratchet finally looked to Sunstreaker. The youngling was not eating, staring at Ratchet like he was ready to run at a moment's notice. Like Ratchet suddenly had one bright red optic and a love for torturing mechs. It hurt somewhat, but he pushed it aside. “Sunny.” His voice was low, although it still startled Sideswipe some. “Sides told me something… troubling.”

_Ah_. That made sense to Sunstreaker. His frame relaxed a bit. He did not think Ratchet would hurt him. But he was ready. He was always ready. “That we're evil.” He supplied. It was the truth. As much as he also hated it, it was the truth. He could feel it in his spark.

“And why would you say that?” Ratchet countered, a slight edge to his voice as he spoke.

Sunny shrugged, ignoring his twin's pleading over the bond for him to just shut up. “Because I feel it. We just are.”

The medic's brow plates furrowed some. “No. I've seen your processor, mechling. Both of yours. Neither of you show any of the usual signs of insanity. You're not evil.”

He got another shrug in response. “It's in my CNA. My spark. Shockwave said so." His voice sounded so sure that it broke Ratchet's spark. He would rip Shockwave's spark from his chest one orn for what he did to these younglings. They did not deserve this.

“You really think you’re evil? Really? Fine, then do you want to go to the brig?” There was disbelief and anger in the medic’s voice that Sunny did not expect. He wanted to get up from the table and run. Ratchet was never like that. He shrunk back in his seat some, trying to get as far from the medic while still being seated as possible. Ratchet was not having it, however. He stood up, moving around to Sunny’s seat and kneeling down. “If you are so evil, do it. Kill me.”

_What._ Sunny shook his head, because he could not kill Ratchet. He would not. The medic had been so surprisingly kind to him since he had woken up finally. Sides also loved Ratchet, so Sunny could never kill him. He could not cause his twin that much sparkbreak. “I don’t wanna.” He managed, averting his optics.

“You’re evil, though, right? So take out that dagger I know you’ve been hiding and kill me.” Ratchet insisted, taking Sunny’s chin in his fingers and turning his head. The touch was still gentle, but he could feel the anger in Ratchet’s field still. “If you’re really evil, it shouldn’t matter. You should be able to just do it. Kill me. Do it.”

He would not move. He would not hurt Ratchet. Ratchet had yet to hurt him. He had no reason to hurt Ratchet. He continued to shake his little helm, bringing his knees to his chest and pressing his palms tightly to his audio receptors. His processor and his spark both ached, and he was not entirely sure why. Back with the Decepticons, he would have done it. Whenever someone ordered them to kill, Sunny did it without a second thought.

He did not want to anymore, though.

When he finally broke, the medic pulled him tightly to his chest. When sobs racked his little frame, Ratchet's engine revved quietly to try and calm him. A hand stroked between his shoulder struts with just the right amount of pressure; grounding but gentle. “You're not evil.” Ratchet declared softly. “No matter what that mech said, you are _not_ evil. You’re a bit of a brat, but not evil.” Ratchet teased lightly, holding the mechling close. Sideswipe came over, forcing his way into Ratchet’s hold as well. He clung to his brother and their caretaker, pressing tighter to his twin when Sunny whimpered softly.

They sat there until Sunny calmed down. There was nothing important for them to do that orn. No one was expecting them anywhere, and First Aid could handle the medbay just fine. Ratchet and his mechlings needed an orn. He needed to get them _both_ to see that there was more to life than fighting and death and all of the chaos of the Decepticons. He wanted desperately to get Sunny to see he was better than them. So, he located some more paints and large canvases. It was so great to hear the two of the younglings giggle, getting paint all over Ratchet and each other. Ratchet felt dozens of vorns younger just being around it.

And if Wheeljack found them all later curled up in the middle of the main room, covered in paint and passed out, he never said a thing about it.

.   .   .

“Jetfire and Jetstorm are coming with Bee today.” Ratchet called from his office, neither of the twins looking up from their datapads. They had not really seen the younger twins since they arrived; the twins barely left Ratchet or occasionally Wheeljack’s side. “Bluestreak will be joining them as well.”

That got both of them looking at him. Sideswipe looked curious while Sunstreaker… well, he looked like Sunstreaker. That was about the only way Ratchet could come up with to describe it without it sounding rude. “Who’s that?” Sides chirped, setting his datapad aside.

“That is Prowl’s youngest brother. He generally watches the twins himself, but the twins wanted to be with Bee today.” Ratchet explained. “And Optimus is very… selective with who watches Bee.” Which was the nice way of putting that he trusted basically no one with his sparkling but for some reason had come to trust Sideswipe with him in little time at all. How the mechling had pulled it off, none of the officers had figured out yet. They had all decided to not question it.

Of course, Sides could have cared less about that detail at the moment. “Prowl has more than one brother?” It was rare to have more than one sparkling, and even rarer to have twins. They knew that all too well; Shockwave had never let them forget how _special_ they were. They knew the statistics. Sunny looked between his twin and Ratchet, processor trying to understand this new bit of information.

“He has two brothers. You’ll both meet Smokescreen eventually.” The medic assured. “He is a psychologist. Very good at what he does.” Ratchet forced down a chuckle at the scowl he suddenly got from both the twins. They were too smart for their own good, honestly. They caught on to things much too quickly. “Blue is only a few vorn older than you two. You’ll like him.”

Ratchet feared later that perhaps he was wrong. Sunstreaker spent the entire time Bluestreak was there glaring holes into the back of the other mechling’s helm. Of course, Blue was too busy rambling to Sideswipe to even notice. He had feared that the other’s… _glitch_ might make it difficult for him to get along with the twins. Just Sunny not liking him at first was a huge success in Ratchet’s book. The yellow twin instead spent his time coloring with the sparklings, who were just amazed to get this much attention from the usually antisocial twin. Bee had sidled up right next to Sunny, and the twin had simply moved his arm so Bee could cuddle close while coloring. The jet twins were not far behind him.

And Blue and Sides just ignored them all the entire time.

Sunny was dead quiet at dinner, and Sides did not seem to really notice. He just chattered on and on about Bluestreak this and Bluestreak that. When can Blue come over next? Can Blue spend the night next time? Can he spend the night at Jazz and Prowl’s with Blue? It just kept coming and coming until finally Sunny snapped. His fist slammed down on the table, startling the other two. With a shove of his chair, he was storming off to their room. The door slammed shut behind him.

Ratchet sighed, telling Sideswipe to wait when he moved to rush after his twin. The mechling looked at him, brow plates furrowed in confusion. “You know, you ignored Sunny for a lot of today.” Ratchet stated, prepared for Sideswipe to argue with him about that. That he _could not_ really ignore Sunny.

He did not argue, though. Sides just looked down at the floor, almost as if he were ashamed.

“You’re all he has ever known, Sides,” Ratchet continued, moving around to kneel by the youngling. “He isn’t… naturally as social as you are. You know that. So it was hard to be pushed aside by you, even if you didn’t mean it.” Which was something else Ratchet needed to be concerned about. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were not going to always be together. Eventually, Sunny would have to learn to be away from Sides. Especially if one or both of them joined the Autobots and were in different divisions. Maybe one of them would want to be a medic or a scientist, and the other a warrior of some sort. Maybe one of them would not join the war and would go off to a neutral colony. It would not do them any good if they could not handle being separated but still in the same room for even a few joors.

After he finally got Sideswipe to lay down with Sunstreaker, Ratchet called Wheeljack over. This was much more stressful than he had expected, and he had not even made it to an vorn yet. Wheeljack was of course as supportive as ever, offering to talk to the twins and maybe even get them in with Smokescreen soon. They needed it. Both of them knew it. Ratchet was just not as keen on the idea as Wheeljack was. “They’ve spent most of their lives with Shockwave knowing their every thought and move whenever he wanted.” Ratchet argued. “I won’t put them through that until they’re ready.”

“And if they’re never ready?” Wheeljack asked with an exasperated sigh. “Ratch, I understand why you are worried. I get it. But… they need this. And you know neither of us are meant for that sorta work. Hell, I’m barely allowed to work around other mechs. Smokey is their best chance at getting better.”

Wheeljack got a groan out of Ratchet, who just shook his helm. “Not yet. They- they need more time.”

“Do they need more time, Ratch?” Wheeljack snapped, startling his sparkmate. “Or do you?”

Optics flickered briefly at him. Ratchet’s field reached out to Wheeljack, worry ebbing in it. “Jack… is something else wrong?”

The scientist snorted at that, standing up from the table. “If you don’t know, Ratch, then maybe you really are just that dense.” And he stormed off, leaving Ratchet sitting there confused.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, more relationship building and time-hopping shit. Next few chapters are where the story really starts to pick up. I'm also gonna go ahead and apologize for the feels I know they will cause.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had chiseled out a small amount of space for themselves in Ratchet’s office, sitting there going over their lessons for the orn with minimal enthusiasm. It all seemed so dull to them. The math Ratchet had given them was not difficult at all, but neither of them had the spark to let him know. He was just trying to help, after all. Eventually he would catch on that they were beyond this.

The twins usually uneventful orn was abruptly interrupted when mechs were suddenly rushing into the medbay and they were being rushed out. They caught something about someone injured on a recon mission, but knew nothing else as the medbay doors shut decisively behind them.

“Where do we go?” Sides asked, looking around the hallway and suddenly feeling infinitely smaller. There were a few mechs about, eyeing the twins some but not really saying much as they lurked outside the medbay.

Sunny glared about some, thinking. He tapped his foot on the ground some, probing his processor for any idea of what to do without Ratchet or their work that was left in his office. He eventually just shrugged turning to his left. “Let’s just go see Wheeljack.”

“… Jack’s lab is this way, Sunny.” Sides teased, grabbing his twin’s hand and tugging him in the other direction. He liked the idea of going to see Jack. He probably would not make them do dumb schoolwork.

Sides was correct about that. Wheeljack had been extremely startled to have the twins suddenly come barreling into the lab. He was immediately chattering back and forth with Sideswipe, though, and gladly picking up one twin with each arm. They were just barely small enough for him to do this, but they both absolutely loved it. Perceptor just rolled his optics, shooing the three of them out of the lab. “I don’t need to worry about another two mechs blowing everything up, thank you.” He grumbled, but his field oozed happiness.

“What should we do, Wheeljack?” Sides asked, giggling some.

Wheeljack was amazed to hear Sunstreaker giggling softly as well, both of them squirming some in his hold. “Can we play one of those board games you showed us?” And really, how could they possibly expect him to say no.

He would try to anyway. “Don’t you both have studying to do?” After all, he had helped Ratchet make their lessons.

“Ratchet thinks we’re stupid.” Sunny groaned, and Sides nodded quickly in agreement.

“Well, that’s definitely not true.” Wheeljack countered quickly, although he made note of the mechlings’ complaints for later. “How about I help figure out what is good for you? Yeah? And then you will have lessons good for both of you.”

Sides made a face at that, but Sunny was nodding. “Can’t we just play games?” Sides seemed less than enthused about having actually decent lessons to study. Having seen how much trouble he can get into when left alone, though, Wheeljack knew better than to just let him have his way. Sunstreaker also seemed pretty interested in getting something more up to snuff for them. So he had a plan for now.

It turned out to be a great plan, as well. The twins were leaps and bounds ahead of what they had anticipated, which was still ahead of where other mechlings their age would likely be. The only subject they lacked in was Cybertronian history, but they had all expected that given their upbringing. Wheeljack would kill to have even one of them eventually working under him, though. Sides and Sunny both were very scientifically inclined it turned out.

The second he said that, though, they both clammed up. And he knew instantly why. Shockwave had been the one to raise them until now, and barely at that. They had seen the worst side of science, had experienced it firsthand. It made sense that they were scared of that.

Wheeljack decided that he would help them not be.

.   .   .

Ratchet was exhausted when he finally made it back to their quarters. He stumbled through the door, glaring off to the side briefly when he heard someone hushing him. Before he could open his mouth to complain at the twins, he felt Wheeljack’s silent laughter through their bond. His optics snapped to the side and there he was, buried under two passed out twins. There were all sorts of tools and… _Primus only knew what_ that Ratchet did not have the energy to ask about. Wheeljack just looked too pleased with himself for Ratchet to justify interrogating him and waking up the twins. Instead, he gave a fond shake of his helm before moving forward and scoping up Sideswipe carefully as Wheeljack finally picked up Sunny and stood to follow him. He heard Wheeljack cooing softly to Sunny behind him as the mechling stirred some, and felt his spark break a little.

He had been keeping Wheeljack from this.

After they got the mechlings settled into their berth, they slipped out and sat on the couch together. It had been a while since they had done this, both of them nursing a cube of high grade. It felt _right_ , putting the twins to bed together and then just relaxing. This was how they were meant to be. Ratchet just… was worried about how the twins would take it. They could ease into it like this, though. It would work out in the end.

“Y’know, Ratch, they’re both _really_ smart.” Wheeljack whispered eventually, leaning into Ratchet’s side some. “Like… really, _really_ smart. We don’t have any premade lessons that would challenge them outside of history. We’ll need to make something different for them. Maybe get Prowl involved.”

Ratchet actually snorted at that. “I’m sure Prowl will love that. He thinks their nothing but trouble.”

Wheeljack arched a brow plate at him. “Are you saying he is wrong?”

Ratchet’s field bristled at that. “There is not a bit of bad in their frames,” comes out in a hiss before he is trying to move from Wheeljack who held on and shushed him.

“You know that isn’t what I meant.” Ratchet did, too. He was just overreacting. He knew he was. But he found he could not help. He fought Sunny and Sides enough, always having to reassure one or both of them that they were not evil. He did not need Prowl or any other mech making it any harder for him. Wheeljack stroked a hand along his backstrut lightly. “They’re just mischievous, Ratch. That’s all I meant.” The scientist nuzzled against him, fields melding together as Ratchet slowly relaxed. “They’re good mechlings. Just like to get into trouble.”

He managed a little nod, practically oozing into Wheeljack's touch now. “They are. They just need time for mechs to understand them. That's all.” Ratchet mumbled, optics shuttering briefly. The exhaustion from the day was hitting him _hard_. But he did not want to move. He had missed this. Had missed them. He did not want to move, because he did not want Jack to leave.

Warmth flooded their bond, his thoughts obviously having oozed over some. “I’m not going anywhere, Ratch. You know that. Let's… let's go lay down. Yeah?” Wheeljack sounded so unsure that Ratchet was suddenly swarmed with guilt.

He only nodded. What would one night hurt?

.   .   .

“Wheeljack should come over for dinner.” Sideswipe said decisively around midorn the following orn, his twin nodding firmly by his side where they sat across from their caretaker in the main room of their quarters. Ratchet arched an optic ridge at that, confused as to why they would ask such a thing but also slightly sparkbroken at how much Wheeljack should have been there already. “He’s fun. We like him. He should come over.”

Ratchet snorted some, hoping he kept his hurt from all of his bonds at that. “What did he blow up with you two this time?”

Sunny actually spoke up this time, which actually made Ratchet’s spark soar momentarily. “We didn’t blow anything up. He just… we like him. And he likes you. And we like you…” The youngling’s voice trailed off and Sideswipe wiggled his brow plates at him suggestively.

“And you like him.” Sides tacked on quickly.

_Oh, Ratchet was in trouble._

“Now, what could have possibly given you two that idea?” The old medic grumbled, although he wore an easy expression and his field was completely relaxed. He did not want the twins to feel his unease at this line of questioning, when there should have been nothing but relief that they were so accepting of Jack. He was somewhat startled to find that was not the case but shoved everything aside for the time being.

Sunny led the charge once more, and if Ratchet were not so thrown off by this conversation his spark would have overflown with happiness at witnessing this. “Because he spent the night in your room. And the only grown mechs that share rooms are sparkmates.”

Well, they were not wrong there. Not at all. So Ratchet opted for a shrug, sipping at his cube lightly. “I’ll see if he wants to come over later.” And the way the twins cheered in joy at that really made his spark soar. He could not keep his happiness from bleeding over to his bond with Wheeljack, who immediately was prodding at him questioningly. ‘ _The twins want you to join us again later, if you are fine with that. Apparently only sparkmates share a room. They think they are setting us up._ ’

He felt overwhelming joy flowing back at him. ‘ _Should I start moving my stuff back in?_ ’ Wheeljack sounded so eager. He wanted this so badly.

‘ _Give them a little longer to warm up to the idea, yeah? Maybe leave one or two things here, though. Sound alright?_ ’ Ratchet felt that was a fair compromise. They could not spring this on the twins all at once. That would be very unfair for the twins.

It was also a little unfair to Jack not to, but Ratchet really was mostly worried about the twins. He could not help it. They were his mechlings. He had to put them first. Always.

.   .   .

The twins sat in the main living area of Jazz and Prowl’s quarters with Bluestreak, all three shouting and shoving at each other as they played the latest game Wheeljack had given them; it was actually some sort of a fighting game, and the twins absolutely adored it so far. Sideswipe had made an effort to include Sunny whenever he hung out with Bluestreak, and they were actually all getting along. It was a miracle, if you asked any of the older mechs.

The jet twins had tried their best to stay awake with the older younglings, even after Optimus had retrieved Bumblebee. They had gone with minimal fuss once Jazz had snatched them both up off the couch, leaving Prowl with the other three. None of them had even noticed until Sunny and Sides caught a faint singing from the other room. They both paused at the same moment, heads tilting to the side in confusion. They dialed up their audio receptors as much as they could.

_Jazz was singing the younger twins a lullaby_.

Sunny nearly winced at the pain that washed over his spark, scowling externally to mask it. Was that what a creator was meant to do with their sparklings? Is that how they should have been put to bed, instead of with death threats and promises of more poking and prodding in the coming? His spark felt heavy and bitter, jaw grinding as he forced back tears. They were better off without all of that. Doting and coddling like that would have only made them weak. They would have never lived, never made it here. All of that torment from before was worth it, because they were happy now. They were safe now. So what, they never had a creator sing them lullabies?

They did not need them.

“What did Jazz do before the war?” Sides asked softly, pulling Sunny from his moping to stare his twin down. The red twin just sent a wave of warmth over their bond, trying to relax his obviously agitated twin. He was curious. Sunny knew that. Sideswipe was always curious. It was going to get them killed one day.

Prowl actually chuckled some, which startled the twins some. “Jazz? He was an enforcer, much like myself. Although, Optimus tells me that Jazz was always fond of doing karaoke and performing. A shame, really, that he never got to share his music with the world.” Prowl’s optics drifted towards the jet twins’ room, expression oddly soft for the generally stoic mech. “Perhaps one day.”

The twins blinked, heads tilting some together. “Why was he an enforcer, then?” Sunny asked, not able to wrap his mind around doing one thing when he enjoyed something else more. That seemed dumb to him, and he could tell Sides was thinking the same thing.

Prowl’s sigh had the twins worried, but Bluestreak did not seem concerned. It could not be that bad if the biggest scaredy mech they knew was not worried. “It appears it is time for a history lesson. Were you taught much before coming here?”

Sunny snorted at that, rolling his crimson optics. “Is that a serious question?” Sides elbowed him gently at his sarcastic tone, but Prowl took no offense to it; he was right in assuming he already had a good understanding for their lack of historical knowledge.

With a sigh, the Praxian settled some more into his seat andd let his doorwings ease some. He heard Jazz slip back into the room, grinning when his sparkmate settled beside him. “Well, allow me to start at the very beginning then, with Primus and Unicron…”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the wait. Life got a bit out of hand. I'll have the next chapter up in two weeks.

Sideswipe was startled awake by three consecutive weights falling onto his chest, jolting up and immensely glad the three sparklings had leaped on him instead of Sunstreaker as his own battle computer tried to whir to life. He blinked at the three giggling mechlings, still trying to get all his systems functioning at full capacity again. Bee crawled off of him and over to Sunny, pressing into the crook of the other’s neck as they all chirped in unison, “Happy spark orn!”

_Oh._

The youngest of the twins looked around, completely confused as he heard Ratchet chuckle from the doorway to their room. The medic stood there with a smug grin on his face, arms crossed over his chest. Sunny grumbled something off to his side as Jetfire and Jetstorm joined Bee in cuddling the grumpier of the two twins awake, and Sides took that moment to slip out of the berth. _Spark orn?_ How had they known? Ratchet must have figured it out, somehow, because neither of the twins had ever mentioned it. It was not exactly something they took great joy in since their lives had been living Pit up until recently.

He shuffled over to the medic, unsurprised to be pulled into a tight hug. “Happy spark orn, Sideswipe. You, too, Sunstreaker!” Ratchet only got a huff in response, the other obviously doing his best to ignore the giggling sparkling trio as he tried to go back to recharge. “The munchkins insisted on waking you two up. Sorry.”

Sides could tell by the smirk on the medic’s face that he most definitely was not sorry, but he did not voice this. He was much too busy trying to wrap his processor around mechs being excited for their spark orn, for actually trying to make some sort of a deal out of it. Never before had anyone ever wished them a happy spark orn. Hell, they had stopped saying it to each other when they were only ten vorns old, and he supposed that was sad to really think back on. He leaned into their caretaker’s hug, ignoring the emotions welling up in his spark. He would not cry. He would not.

Ratchet’s engine purred soothingly, one hand rubbing Sideswipe’s back gently as his field meshed easily with Sides and tried to push comfort, warmth, and _love_ at him. “Whoa now, mechling. No reason to go crying.” Ratchet whispered, obviously trying to keep his voice down so the sparklings would not hear and swarm Sideswipe. That was the last thing he wanted, really. He hated getting so emotional in front of anyone, but especially Bee and the Flier twins. They always seemed so sad to see him cry.

‘ _I don’t know what to do._ ’ Sunny whispered over their bond, feeling just as unsure and saddened. It was a hopeful sort of sad. A sad that was not a wish for the end, but rather sad that they once had wished for an end. They would have missed this; the sparklings cuddling up to Sunny as he started to cry silently and Ratchet holding Sides as he did the same.

Sides pushed back with all of the overwhelming amounts of love he felt from Ratchet, as well as some of his own. ‘ _I don’t think we need to do anything, Sunny._ ’

Ratchet gave them a few moments to collect themselves and the sparklings before ushering them out to the main room for energon and presents. “These ones are just from me. Everyone else wanted to have a bigger party later.” Ratchet explained, passing two presents to each of the younglings. They stared at them in awe, barely grasping what Ratchet was saying. “They couldn’t help themselves. They do this every vorn for the others, so felt like they had to for you both, too. I can cancel it all, if you guys aren’t comfortable with it.”

Sunny’s little hands shook as he held the presents, anxiety coming off of him in waves. Sides set his own gifts aside briefly to scoot his chair closer to Sunny’s. Softly, they answered together, “No bot has ever done anything for our spark orn.”

Not that any of the Autobots had legitimately expected Shockwave to, or any of the other Decepticons for that matter. Well, perhaps some of Soundwave’s cassettes would, but that guess only came from the testimony of Blaster’s own; they were naturally more family-oriented given their own bonding similar to that of the twins. But, for some reason, Ratchet did not imagine that Ravage, Frenzy, and crew were good company, even on their best behavior. This was why they had planned a party for later in the orn, which the twins were somehow still out of the loop about prior to Ratchet telling him. How they had managed that, Ratchet would never know. Especially with Blurr involved in the planning. He just had to keep these five occupied until Wheeljack gave him the all clear. Which really was not a difficult task, given how easily Bee and the Jet twins could hold Sides and Sunny’s attention.

“Better late than never,” Ratchet told them both, offering a gentle smile. “Open them. Go on.” He urged, ready to set the memory aside to share with Wheeljack later. Jack had helped with these presents, after all.

Sunny spoke up alone this time, setting the gift into his lap. “What about Wheeljack? Should we wait for him?” That had Sides nodding quickly next to him. They were going to tear Ratchet’s spark out at this rate with the Wheeljack stuff. “He’d want to be here.”

They were certainly not wrong. Ratchet’s spark throbbed almost painfully in his chest at the twins’ obvious attachment to the other already. He really had worried for nothing, hadn’t he? It seemed so. He pulled in a deep vent, trying to wrap his processor around what to do next. It was giving him nothing, though. So, he trusted spark, and just shrugged. “We can wait until the party if you both want.” That got him two happy nods. So it was settled.

Now he just had to make sure that the five younglings did not tear up his quarters while waiting. Easier said than done. At least Blue had gone to help instead of hanging out with them.

.   .   .

“Happy spark orn!” The shout was in unison, somehow. Ratchet will never know how they managed that. He could not be bothered to dwell on it either, not with two excited younglings sprinting by him into the horde of bots. The medic hung back, allowing the sparklings to toddle quickly away after setting them all down. He never really had been one for large social gatherings; this was the first party the Autobots had thrown since he joined them that he had actually attended.

He was nearly startled by Wheeljack coming up behind him, the other setting a single hand on his shoulder strut before speaking. “Did they like the games?”

Ratchet shrugged, rolling his optics affectionately. “They wanted to wait for you before opening them, so I still have them.” He pulled them both from his subspace. Their bond was overflowing with love and joy. Primus, Wheeljack really did love those two younglings as if they were his own. It hurt Ratchet to think about. If Wheeljack were with any other mech, perhaps he could have mechlings of his own. Instead, he stuck himself with old Ratchet. Wheeljack deserved better.

A hand ghosted over his faceplate, settling on a cheek and snapping him from his moping. “There is no one better for me than you, Ratchet. You know that.” There was so much sincerity in the whisper. So much love. Wheeljack was always so full of love. It was not the time for that, however. Ratchet took a quick step away from the other, pulling his field in and hoping the mechlings did not see. He loved ‘Jack, but the twins did not know yet. He did not want to potentially ruin their spark orn with this.

Ratchet never had been the best at shutting Wheeljack out. He saw the instant that last thought bled over their bond and instantly regretted it. Wheeljack stormed out of the room, Ratchet hot on his heels. He snatched his hand in his, begging him to stop. “’Jack, c'mon-“

Ever gentle Wheeljack actually smacked Ratchet's hand away, startling the older mech. There was fire in the scientist's optics, a rage that did not belong there. “Don’t. Don't you dare. I-I can't keep pretending, Ratchet. This- this is not _fair_.”

“’’Jack, please.” Ratchet begged, still trying to keep his voice down. “I didn’t mean it the way you are thinking. You have to know that. Please.” He did not know how he was supposed to convince the other. How he could properly apologize. He just had to get him to listen, hopefully. “I love you. The twins love you. You _know_ I didn’t mean it like that.”

Wheeljack just shook his helm, storming off. Frag it all. What was Ratchet supposed to do? He had two younglings in there he wanted to enjoy their spark orn. And a sparkmate who thought he hated him now. What had he gotten himself into?

.   .   .

Ratchet had thought the twins were fast asleep in their room after all of the chaos and fun of their first spark orn with the Autobots. Especially after Wheeljack had returned and spent the entire time playing with the twins and ignoring Ratchet entirely. Because of this, he was surprised when the couch settled some next to him, snapping his attention from his moping to look at Sunstreaker. Something was wrong. The yellow twin had pulled his knees tightly to his chest, arms wrapped around and holding them there as if letting go would mean he would fall apart. His optics stayed focused straight ahead, field pulled so tight to him that Ratchet barely felt it as he reached tentatively out with his own.

“Bad dream, Sunshine?” He asked softly, reaching out and startling when Sunstreaker abruptly scooted away from him. The youngling nearly fell off of the couch he moved so quickly, looking frightened up at Ratchet. Ratchet just barely caught the tremble of Sunstreaker's chin before he was all out sobbing into his knees, forcing his helm between them as if to try and force everything out. Ratchet reached for him again, settling a hand on him and was saddened when Sunny shook him off.

The youngling finally bit out, “D-don’t touch me!” It did not sound angry, though; Ratchet had heard Sunstreaker's angry tone of voice plenty by then. “I-I don't want to ruin y-you, t-t-too.”

_Oh no._

“I-I hurt him.” Sunstreaker whispered, shrinking in on himself even further somehow. Ratchet could guess at who _him_ was easily enough but opted to let Sunstreaker keep speaking. “I-I didn’t mean it. I never- I never mean it.”

… _What did he mean by never?_ Ratchet was sliding off the couch and moving to kneel before Sunny. His hands hovered over the other, wanting to touch but fearing he might startle the other into waking up Sides. “What happened, Sunny?”

A choked sob left the tiny yellow youngling, “I l-lost control. I-it was gonna hurt him. _I was gonna hurt Sides._ ” Crimson optics overflowed with tears, looking up at Ratchet with his chin quivering. “I-I don’t wanna hurt Sides. Never again.”

This really was not turning out to be a good orn for Ratchet, it seemed. He had worried about battle protocols with both twins, although Sideswipe had not shown any significant signs to worry him. Sunny had not yet either. Maybe the split-off protocols were smarter than he had anticipated. If they were manifesting themselves externally like this, though, it could very well be too late to safely remove them. There was nothing the medic could really do at the moment other than finally pull Sunny against his chestplate and just let the mechling cry. He could have Smokescreen talk with the twins in a couple of orns, see if some sort of therapy helped. For now, he just held the youngling and did his best to calm him. “It’s alright, Sunny. You’re fine. Sides is fine. Everything is gonna be alright.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! Hopefully I can get the next couple of chapters up in the next couple of weeks. I have both of them mostly written, but I just want to go through and flesh out some of the details a little better in some parts. The next few chapters will have a slower pace and fewer time jumps (finally), and I want to make sure I don't miss anything important lol

“There’s not a lot else we can do except find what triggers it and help them with that.” Smokescreen said, much to Ratchet and the Twins’ displeasure. Ratchet had taken them to him early in the orn to discuss his concerns with the battle protocols. Seemed they did not have many options. “I honestly advise having Jazz go in to help remove them. Other than yourself, Ratchet, there is no one better suited for the job. They are young enough. It may not be too late.”

Ratchet shook his helm. The twins were not saying anything, but with how tightly both of their fields were pulled to their frames, they did not need to. “I don’t think either of them really wants someone digging around in their processor. Can’t say I blame them, really.” He stood from his chair, motioning for the twins to rise as well. “Comm me when you are available? The twins have nothing concrete in their schedules every orn, so long as they get their coursework done.”

Smokescreen nods, offering the three mechs a small smile. “Of course. Have a good rest of your orn.”

Ratchet led them back out and towards the rec room, the twins following him silently. It was obvious to the medic they were discussing something privately, however; their hands were moving as if they were talking out loud. It was a funny quirk that many of the Autobots had noticed when they first started to leave Ratchet’s side and explore the base. The medic stopped, rolling his optics when both younglings crash right into him. “Care to share your thoughts?”

Both twins looked a tad embarrassed, Sides more than Sunny. “Would it hurt? To have them removed?” Sides asked. “Sunny wants them gone, but neither of us want to get hurt because of it. What if… what if we’re no longer _us_ when they’re gone?”

Ratchet knelt down, putting a hand on each of their shoulder struts. “We’ll try figuring out ways to keep them suppressed first. Removing split off protocols is a very difficult thing, and often does not go as planned. We’re going to avoid that for now, okay?” That got him two nods in response. The twins seemed a little more at ease now, following him to the rec room where they split off from him so Ratchet could go to a battle planning meeting.

It was going to be a long orn.

.   .   .

The twins were surprised to find that Ratchet was the mech staying behind with the mechlings and the base when the other Autobots were marching off to battle. The medic usually went with and Alpha Trion would stay behind but he had instead volunteered to stay back as well with the six younglings and sparklings on base. “The twins are trouble,” Ratchet had offered up when asked why he was staying behind. No one knew which set of twins he was talking about. They all supposed it could apply to both. Perhaps it did.

The mechlings were all playing around in the medbay when a very defeated looking Jazz found them. The older twins were immediately on high alert as the little fliers swarmed their devastated looking sire. They chirped and whirred happily at him, and he simply grabbed them and held them close. Prowl walked into the medbay behind him, taking their creations in his arms and whispering to them as he slipped out again. Bluestreak silently followed his brother after a moment, faceplate suddenly scrunched up in concern. Jazz remained; he was just standing there with his shoulders slumped. He was covered in all sorts of dents and dings that had the twins on high alert.

Something was very, _very_ wrong.

Bee was catching on to it as well, antennae and doorwings drooping down. He leaned further into Sunstreaker, whirring hesitantly at Jazz. The TIC finally sighed, kneeling down before where the three sat on the floor. “Bee… you’re gonna stay with me and Prowler for a little while.” He whispered, reaching for the sparkling.

“Why?” Hearing Bee’s sad little question sent a jolt of sadness through the twins’ sparks. _Optimus was not coming back._ Bee grabbed tightly to Sunny’s arm, “Where Oppy? Want Oppy.”

“We… uh, we lost him. The bad mechs took him.” Jazz said, not able to look at the little yellow sparkling as he completely slumped.

Sunny rubbed tiny circles between the little doorwings on Bee’s back, engine purring softly to try and soothe the mechling as he felt him start to shudder softly. “G-gonna get ‘im back?”

The normally so chipper mech just shook his helm, pulling in a soft sigh. “I… I’m not so sure, Bee.” It was distressing to see Jazz, so scuffed up and hopeless.

‘ _No more Prime?_ ’ Sunny asked over their bond, squeezing Bee gently. He spoke aloud to Jazz, “W-we’ll come sit with Bee and the Twins for a bit.” He could only imagine how lost the poor mechling felt. The Twins had never felt it themselves; there was some anxiety when Shockwave severed their bond. That had been quickly snuffed out during his experiments, however.

Sides followed Jazz with him, staying close to his side and meshing his field with Bee’s. ‘ _I can’t believe it. Not Prime. What… what are the Autobots gonna do without him?_ ’ The mech was essentially the very center of the Autobot movement; without him, the group would not exist. He was also one of the kindest mechs that the twins had ever met. He did not deserve to rot to death in a Decepticon prison cell.

The twins got settled into the room with Bee and the younger twins, watching a dejected Jazz leave them to find Prowl and Bluestreak. Sunny waited until all was quiet and he knew Jazz was far enough away before ramming his fist into the wall with a shout. “Frag it all! This shouldn’t be happening!” He brushed Sides off when he moved to attempt to console his twin and check out his fist, opting to instead pace the length of the room. “What are _we_ supposed to do?

“Know find Oppy. Me know.” Bee insisted, catching their attention with his little expression startlingly serious for such a small mech. If Sunny and Sides did not know the gravity of the situation, they might laugh. “Me feel ‘im. Can find.”

_Feel him?_ The twins thought together, looking to each other quickly. They knew there was only one way that was possible, although they had only known the feeling for a short period of time before Shockwave had ripped it away from them. It was a thing only young sparklings and their creators were capable of – well, and twins. Tracking someone with a bond was nearly impossible otherwise. But, if Bee could track him down…

They could save the Prime. They had to.

Sunny groaned, looking to Sides with a glare. ‘ _They are gonna kill us._ ’

“Well, hopefully they’ll be able to. Cause this could kill us.” Sides responded aloud, snagging Bee up and setting the sparkling on one of his shoulders. They had to sneak off the ship without Red Alert spotting them, which was next to impossible. Then they would have to make their way to whatever Decepticon base they had Optimus stashed away at. It was not going to be easy to pull off.

With a shrug, Sunny went over to the vent in the Jet Twins room, carefully taking off the cover and showing the younger twins how to put it back. “You two have to cover for us, alright? Prowl can’t know we’re gone, or Ratchet, got it?”

“No come?” Jetfire asked softly, his twin sitting silently at his side. “Don’t want to lie to carrier.”

Sides just shrugs, moving to hoist Bee up into the vents as Sunny handed the younger twins the screwdriver he had used. “You don’t have to. Just say we took Bee somewhere with us. You don’t know where.”

Jetstorm scowled. “Me no like.”

“Ya don’t have to.” Sunny grumbled, helping Side climb into the vent first before letting his twin haul him up. He pulled the vent cover into place for the twins to screw it on when they were gone. “Just say it and make it believable. Problem solved.” The older twins did not wait for them to start screwing the cover back on before taking Bee and moving further into the vents. They had to be quick, if they wanted to be sure they could save Optimus and get passed Red Alert’s cameras before he shut the entire base down to keep them in.

.   .   .

“You mechs wanna tell me where you’re headed.”

The twins nearly jumped out of their plating, both whipping around with daggers at the ready. They had miraculously made it out of the base and were slowly picking their way through Iacon with Bee telling them if they were “hot or cold”. Sideswipe held Bee with one hand to his chest, letting his brother take a step in front of him. They lowered their weapons and helms a bit, though, when Bee chirped happily, reaching for one of the many mechs they had been trying to avoid. Jazz had his hands on his hips, looking actually mad at them. It was startling to see. Jazz had never even been mad at them when they had pulled pranks on him. To be fair, they had never decided to sneak off base with a sparkling.

“Find Oppy!” Bee cheered as both twins quickly looked away from the older mech. “We save!”

There was a terrifying level of rage in Jazz’s voice when he spoke next. “You _what?_ Have ya both got fraggin’ bolts for processors? That’s a suicide mission!” His yelling was met by silence. He sighed, moving towards them now to take Bee.

“It won’t be a suicide mission.” Sunny answered, looking up to meet Jazz’s blue optics with his own red. “We can fight. We’re really good at it. Better than half the Autobots, I bet. We can get Optimus out.”

Jazz shook his helm. These mechlings were out of their processors. Ratchet would murder him if he let them go. He was amazed they got around Prowl, Ratchet, and Red Alert. “Ya think you’re gonna be able to fight off ‘Cons, keep Bee safe, and haul Optimus out?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sides said with a little shrug. “We were trained to pull off crazy slag like this.”

“And neither of you have trained since you came to the bots,” Jazz countered. “Ratchet will kill me if I let this happen, if the ‘Cons don't first.”

Ratchet would kill them, too. But how could they live with themselves if they let Bee lose his caretaker – or, rather, his carrier? They knew the pain of that bond breaking; they wished it on no one. “We have to do this.” Sunstreaker said firmly, Sides nodding beside him. “And we'll fight you, too, if we have to.”

Jazz watched them carefully, could feel the anxiety in their barely controlled fields. It was a stark contrast between that and the determination on their faceplates. He almost wondered how two younglings became so brave and stubborn, but they had always been that way. At least as long as they had been with the Autobots, if not longer. And he had seen them in combat, unfortunately. He knew they could handle themselves, with a little help. They would not beat him but Ratchet surely would if he fought the medic’s younglings.

He threw his helm back with a groan, walking forward and taking Bee from Sideswipe. “You two get to explain this to Ratchet.” He grumbled, placing Bee on his shoulder. “Let's go. If we're lucky, OP will be too injured to chew me out for using his sparkling to track him down.”

The twins exchanged a quick grin before following after Jazz, keeping their daggers at the ready as they drew closer to Iacon’s border. While not near enemy territory, they chattered back and forth with Jazz; the mech was super easy to get along with. He had so many fun stories to share, and by far their favorites were ones from before the war, trying to get Optimus and Prowl drunk. Neither of them could see that happening now, and the images their processors conjured up for it had them nearly collapsing in laughter. Jazz shushed them lightly, “Easy, mechlin’s. We’re on a mission.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of y'all have such little faith in Jazz, lol.

The twins figured out where they were headed before Jazz did, if only because it was the last place they wanted to be. Suddenly, they were not so excited to be getting out and saving the day. Jazz watched them go from trying to lead the way to shrinking back behind him, optics snapping to any sort of sound nearby. As saddening as it was to see, though, it would hopefully make his job easier if the twins just let him go in and get Optimus himself. They wanted nothing to do with their carrier, after all.

Which was why he was surprised when he found a place for the twins and Bee to hide, and the twins decided to protest. “You can’t just leave us here!” Sides argued, taking Bee as Jazz passed him over to him. “You’ll get caught in there, too! You won’t make it out!”

Jazz shook his helm, pointing at the twins and levelling them with a glare. “Ya both _have_ to stay here with Bee. I can’t bring him in there. Optimus will kill me. And neither of you is in any shape to go in there.” Sunny started to protest, taking a couple steps forward. “Uh-uh, no. There is no arguing about this. I _cannot_ do my job with you three in there. We’ll all get killed. Stay here. Keep Bee safe. I’ll bring Optimus back in no time.”

“And if you don’t make it out?” Sunny asked, tone rough. Jazz eyed the youngling, unable to get a good read on him with his field pulled as tightly to his frame as possible. Sides was always easy to read. Sunny… Sunny was something else, to everyone but Sides and Ratchet. He had assumed the older twin would just stay back and mope until Jazz came back. Wasn’t the first time he was wrong.

Jazz opted to wink at Sunny, hoping to soothe some of the youngling’s anxiety. “I’ve never failed a stealth mission yet, mechlin’. Even when I got stuck draggin’ Ironhide around. I think Optimus and I’ve got this. Wait. Here. Ya both have to keep li’l Bee safe, alright?”

Sunny gave an exasperated sigh, “How long before we go in to save your aft?!” He snapped, crossing his arms over his chestplate.

Ratchet was hearing about the mouth on this one later.

“You don’t.” Jazz hoped his firm tone left no room for arguing; Prowl was more the disciplinarian than he was. “If I don’t come back, you get back to Iacon. You _do not_ come after me under any circumstances. Got me?” The twins looked away from him, both scowling. Jazz stepped back towards them, growing annoyed with this. “No, I need to know from both of you that you will _stay here_. Tell me you won’t come after me.”

After a long pause, the twins spoke in unison. “We won’t come after you.”

_‘We’ll go after Optimus.’_

They did wait until they were sure that Jazz was in the base before they got Bee settle as far back into the small cave as they could. The sparkling looked terrified of being left alone but said nothing. He just nodded as Sides spoke to him. “No one is gonna find you here. We’re gonna go keep ‘em busy while Jazz gets Optimus back, okay?”

“Come back?” Bee whispered, looking from Sides to Sunny.

Sides smirked, nodding as he knuckled between the sparkling’s antennae. “Of course.”

.   .   .

Getting into the base was easier than it was when they had attempted to save Sunny. Sides was actually startled to not hear any explosions going off because of Jazz. He had heard that the mech was the Autobot’s master spy, but he always seemed so… _loud_ , for lack of a better word. He expected the mech to go in guns blazing. Maybe he had, and the Decepticons had already captured him, too. Sides hoped that was not the case.

There was little time to think on that, though, as both twins let their battle protocols take over. There were footsteps echoing down the corridor and little time to waste. They needed to provide a sufficient distraction to make sure that Jazz and Optimus could get out. ‘ _Time to remind them why they called us the Twin Terrors._ ’ Sunny snarked over their bond, blades drawn.

‘ _No seekers, though._ ’ Sides pointed out when they launched themselves at the mechs rounding the corner. ‘ _I was really wanting to practice our jet judo again._ ’

“Keep an optic out for Lazerbeak then,” Sunny called, sprinting ahead after cutting the wires at one mech’s ankle. He ignored his twin’s frustrated groan, charging his way down the hall. They had to make as big of a distraction as possible, right?

“I am insulted that you’d think I’d _want_ to see that pain in the aft.” Sides called down the hall, sidestepping a shot before launching himself at the mech. Frontliners really were just cannon fodder, weren’t they? These mechs fought like drones. There was no challenge, not even for the younglings. And Jazz had seemed concerned.

Sunstreaker scoffed, looking back at his brother. “He doesn’t know us, that’s why.”  He almost continued but paused when Sides suddenly froze, complete terror flowing over their bond.

A large hand snatched him up, the other moving to snag Sides. “Oh, but _I_ do.”

Sunstreaker began flailing immediately, catching whatever he could with his blades. It was no use. All it got him was a deep chuckle. His battle protocols had snapped off the second that familiar field brushed against his own. Like a scared little mechling. He refused to go quietly, battle protocols be damned, yelling as loudly as he could. If Jazz heard him, they may be saved. The base was massive, though. Jazz would likely never find them.

They were done for.

Shockwave threw them into the depth of a room, likely one of his many torture chambers, shutting the door behind him. “Your sire is very disappointed in you, mechlings,” Shockwave practically hissed, skulking around the edge of the room. They stood pressed tightly together, trembling like small sparklings once more. “You both have been very bad. If you come back willingly, perhaps he won't want you both reformatted.”

“N-never!” Sunstreaker bit out, trying to stand firm even though the tremble of his voice gave him away. They were never going back. Over his dead body. He knew Sideswipe could never do it, would not be able to do that to save them both from this hell. Sunstreaker would kill himself in a sparkbeat, though. And take his twin with him, if it kept them from Shockwave's claws. They were _never_ going back. He would make sure of it.

Sunstreaker could practically hear Shockwave's smug smirk, if the mech could actually pull one off. “Oh, but you are already here. And you are going nowhere, mechlings. Let the Prime escape; I have his future killers back in my hands.” _Prime's killers?_ The twins were filled with sudden dread, not being able to even imagine killing Optimus. The mech was a true gentle giant and probably the bravest mech they knew. Not only that, but it would completely devastate Bumblebee. They could never do that to the mechling they considered to be a younger brother. “Your sire could never pull it off; that is why I had you two. I cannot best the Prime in combat, but two berserker profiles on the mechlings of… well, that would be telling too much now, wouldn't it?

“The fact stands, though: that is all you were ever created for. _Killing_. It is in your very sparks, your CNA. Try as you might, you will not be able to escape it.” Shockwave stood before the door now, blocking their escape and looming too close for Sides' tastes.

And as much as he could feel his twin denying what Shockwave said over their bond, Sunny knew. He had always known, no matter how much Sides or Ratchet had tried to convince him otherwise. He knew it the very moment he came to after trying to pry his twin's helm off. He was a monster. He did not need Shockwave of all mech's to remind him of this. He had to deal with the constant reminder of the scars on Sides' arms or how sometimes he would still get phantom pains in his neck. They were not normal, never had been. No matter how much Sideswipe pretended otherwise, Shockwave would always be right.

That did not mean he would ever go back to Shockwave. He would fight that urge as long as he could. He would be good, at least until he physically could not anymore. Just because there was evil in them, in _him_ , did not mean there was no good left either. Bumblebee had shown Sunny again that he could be gentle. He had shown them both that. And right then, Bumblebee was _just outside the base,_ while Jazz was getting Optimus. He was in danger if they did not make it out of here, and both the twins knew it. They had to keep Shockwave _there_. No matter what.

Sunstreaker launched himself at the towering, one-opticed mech, growling in rage. Sideswipe was not far behind him, both with blades drawn. They would not go peacefully. Shockwave was right; he had them. There was no way out, not without some divine – or saboteur – intervention. They would damage him as much as possible before whatever fate befell them, though.

They just regretted not being able to say bye to Ratchet properly, as they dipped and dashed around Shockwave. With each time their blades were able to connect with the mech, they listed a time to each other that Ratchet had been a better surrogate carrier than Shockwave could have ever dreamt of being. They thought back to every single time one of them had a night terror, and Ratchet had simply held them both. Or how Ratchet just patched them both up without question whenever they got injured rough-housing. Sunny thought of how Ratchet had never pressured him to change his optics like Sides had; it would always be his choice if he did it. The medic loved them no matter what, and he had only known them for such a brief time. They had stumbled into his life by pure chance, but at least because of that they could both die having felt the love of an actual creator.

A clawed hand snatched Sunstreaker up by a leg suddenly, snagging him into the air so quickly his helm snapped back and his vision white out briefly. He heard Sides cry out but could feel him frozen even while his vision reset itself. It was like before, almost. Different appendage, but similar enough situation. _'Don't let him take us again!'_ Sunny practically screamed over their bond. _'Sides, please, don't!'_

_'I-I can't.’_ Sides stuttered back, and as Sunny could finally see his twin again, he saw the pure terror in his eyes. He just stood there shaking. Sweet, bubbly Sideswipe was not meant to be a shaking mess. He was meant to be laughing and joking and running from Prowl after another dumb prank or singing to Bee and the Jet Twins or anything but what he was doing just then.

Sunny had dropped his blade when he was snatched from the ground, so it appeared he would have to improvise. He swung a hand up, digging his fingers into the cabling in Shockwave's wrist and _pulling_. The large mech howled in pain, flinging Sunstreaker across the room and into the far wall. Sunny screamed as he collided with the wall, feeling his leg strut snap clean in half. Sides was at his side in an instant, hovering over his twin and looking absolutely terrified.

Hand reached to Sunny, unsure. “W-what do I do?” Sideswipe muttered, looking desperate. “W-what-"

Sunstreaker had no time to try and speak through the pain or snag Sideswipe's dagger before the world seemed to explode around them. Jazz and Optimus came bursting into the room, guns blazing. If Sunstreaker were not already crying, he definitely would have been then. The smaller of the two mechs was snatching him up, angrily yelling at both the twins as Optimus distracted Shockwave. Sunstreaker did not care, though. He just sobbed, careful not to try and move. Everything hurt, but he was so _happy_ to see the saboteur. He found he did not _want_ to die. Not really.

They managed to escape the base, making it to where Bumblebee had stayed hidden. The sparkling squealed in joy when he saw Optimus, flinging himself at the mech and gladly being held close. They all stayed slumped in the cave for a moment, Jazz settling Sunny onto the ground to rest his arms some. “Y’all are the worst.” Jazz grumbled, shaking his helm. “I _had_ it, ya brats.”

Sunny just chuckled, optics shuttering briefly. “Sure ya did.” He was in stasis moments later, pain and anxiety finally having overwhelmed him enough to put him to sleep. Jazz looked worriedly to Sides, knowing that if something were really wrong the other twin would know in an instant. Sides did not look startled or distressed at all, simply shrugging. “If he goes, I go,” The red twin said with a shrug.

“Yeah, well now the old Hatchet is definitely gonna kill me, thanks.” Jazz grumbled, moving to help Sides while Optimus picked up Sunny and Bee. “I should’ve sent ya both back to base.”

.   .   .

Ratchet had been going crazy tearing the base apart while trying to locate the twins. When he had gotten back to his quarters and not found them, he had not thought much of it at first. He figured they were with Bee in Prowl and Jazz’s quarters. Then they were not. Neither was Bumblebee. Prowl’s twins were oddly silent, just cuddled up and staring up at them as innocently as the two little troublemakers could manage. The second Ratchet turned to ask them what they knew, Prowl _growled_ at him and ushered the medic out of their quarters. “They’re likely just around the base somewhere, trying to distract Bee.” The tactician had suggested.

Ratchet had rampaged throughout the whole ship, interrogating every mech he came across, when Jazz and Optimus rounded a corner. Each had a twin in their grasp, with Bee also in Optimus’ hold on Sunstreaker’s chestplate. Jazz froze the second Ratchet’s optics fell on them, offering a sheepish grin as a limping Sideswipe waved from his side. Optimus at least had the decency to hang his helm with some sense of shame. Ratchet did not even consider the fact that Optimus was supposed to be a Decepticon prisoner. The medic was charging at them in an instant, not saying a word as he snagged the golden youngling, passing Bee off to Optimus and turning to snap at them to follow him. He grumbled under his breath as he marched off to the medbay, complaining about dumb younglings and overgrown mechlings.

Sunstreaker must have awoken to Ratchet’s muttering, and he startled the medic when he spoke softly. “We got back the Prime. No good job?” There was a hint of jest in the other’s tone, though, that Ratchet would have generally expected from Sideswipe.

“You could’ve died.” He felt he had every right to be snappish with the twins, as well as Jazz for thinking it was a bright idea to _take them on a rescue mission at forty vorns old_. His spark thudded anxiously in his chest at the thought of going back to his quarters every night to complete silence instead of the sounds of bickering as the twin terrors played holo games together well passed their bedtime. He held Sunny just a bit tighter when he imagined never again having to bail Sides out of trouble for pulling a prank, or deal with Sunny after the other started another fight. There would be no younglings surprising him in his medbay with injuries they swore were not from sparring they were not even allowed to do. His life would be so much duller without them, and he could not go back to that.

Without the twins, the list of things he had to live for was almost completely empty. They were the only thing outside of the cause, really. They had given him purpose again, in a way none of the other mechlings amongst them had. Because they were his.

He did not want to do it alone anymore.

He did his best to bury his own worry as they silently entered the medbay. He motioned Optimus to one of the larger berths, moving and setting Sunny on a berth that might as well have had the other’s designation on it with how often he wound up there. As Jazz helped Sides to the one across from it, Ratchet whispered, “What am I going to do with you two?”

“Fix us and then yell at us for a bit, maybe hit us with a wrench?” Sides joked from behind him, earning a sharp glare.

A hand on Ratchet’s own startled him, pulling his attention back to Sunstreaker. The youngling’s expression was soft for once, hand squeezing gently over Ratchet’s. “We’re not going anywhere, Ratchet.” He assured softly.

Sideswipe snorted behind them. “That’s ‘cause you snapped your leg strut, Sunny.”

Ratchet nearly whacked the youngling silly at that, stopping only when Optimus spoke before he could begin his tirade. The larger mech had his tiny sparkling cradled close to his spark, Bee having somehow fallen asleep; likely due to all of the recent excitement. “If I were more careful, they never would have come after me, and not been hurt doing so. I am sorry, Ratchet.”

Optimus ducked the wrench that came sailing at him just in time, still looking extremely apologetic. “I deserve that. If anything serious had happened with them, more so than what did… I would not be able to forgive myself for an old friend’s younglings dying because of my mistakes.” The Prime cast a look to Jazz as well, although Ratchet was unsure if that was some sort of promise or the other trying to get Jazz to apologize as well. Perhaps both, although Ratchet paid them no more attention as he set to work at getting Sunny’s leg set and splinted so his self-repair could do the rest.

“I mean, we only went in ‘cause we thought Jazz was gonna get experimented on.” Sides piped up from behind Ratchet, sending Ratchet’s rage higher as Sunny just kind of shrugged sheepishly up at him in agreement. “The Autobots can’t lose Prime and Jazz.”

Sunny tacked on quickly before his twin could continue, “We also are pretty solid fighters, Hatchet. We can more than handle ourselves.”

That was obviously not the case, not with their injuries and the pure exhaustion and anxiety coming off both of them in waves. Something had happened, likely whatever had caused Sunstreaker’s leg strut to snap, that had rattled the twins; it was obvious with how close to their armor they held their fields. He would be willing to bet it had something to do with Shockwave, but he had no way to prove it without them telling him so. And good luck to any mech that thought he could get the twins to open up any more than they were willing. No, Ratchet was more than willing to wait until the twin terrors inevitably opened up to him, as they always did.

He let out a sad sigh, pulling them both into a hug suddenly while being careful of Sunny’s leg. “ _I_ can’t lose _you_.”

Sunny patted Ratchet's arm awkwardly, not nestling into the hug as instantly as Sideswipe. "I'm sorry." He muttered, Sideswipe nodding against Ratchet in agreement.

Ratchet had some apologizing of his own to do. That could wait until after he got the Twins taken care of. Wheeljack could wait just a little bit longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I am not an action writer. Sorry. Either way, the next chapter should be up in a couple of weeks at most. Depends on how swamped I get at work.


End file.
